


Sick Keith Fic

by AussieDollVA



Series: Accidental Angst-mobile [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (because I know there are gonna be ppl like "oh I can't read that it doesn't have happy ending tag"), (foghorn blares in the background), (shots fired and they hit), Accidental Plot, Angst, Author needs hugs, Comfort, Druids, Get Well fic, Happy Ending, Hunk is the reason everyone is alive right now, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kolivan is best caregiver confirmed, Kuron got REJECTEDDDDDDDD, Like one or two sentences at a time and it's rare, Maybe - Freeform, Other, So she makes characters hug it out, Vomiting, Whump, bless him. just bless, half the characters in the listing are side characters until like chapter three, he feeds their souls and their stomachs, just a little, keith swears, lance is ultimate memelord, no beta we die like men, sick keith, sick!keith, soft, y'all can't tell me he don't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-02-10 09:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 68,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18657562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AussieDollVA/pseuds/AussieDollVA
Summary: I'm sick so I'm taking it out on Keith. That means Keith is sick. Sick!Keith.Fic set just after S4E4, The Voltron Show (I'm not going to talk about it because it's cringe asf. Thank me later). This also means Keith is BOM boi and that means Space Ninja boi.Read if you wanna see Keith miserable.Or don't. It's, like, totally up to you.





	1. Flowers Make Great Cheespuffs

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sick. 
> 
> Still have to write another two assignments (in the middle of one when I got the inspiration to take my sickness out on Keith), which is why I haven't taken my "holidays" in the other fics. But I am still writing When it Rains it Pours, and Broken Facades. I've just kind of been chipping away at them. 
> 
> I was going to add in certain characters, but then I forgot what they sounded and acted like, so I got into a rut and then I realised I didn't have to actually integrate the character just yet, just make it known that they exist and that they're always watching. Dunno if that makes any sense. I'm sick so writing is kind of just a jumble. 
> 
> Please enjoy this fic. It's gonna be a MAXIMUM of 10 chapters (because that's how long I think I'll need to use as therapy to get through both these assignments and this cold).
> 
> Edit: New discord for this fic. Join if you want.  
> https://discord.gg/awxVjkh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a discord so we can discuss stuff like Voltron and this fic and stuff. Hope someone joins. 
> 
> https://discord.gg/awxVjkh

Keith knew something was definitely wrong. 

He couldn’t pinpoint it; between the thick, pollen-filled atmosphere and the heavy feeling in his chest, he half-heartedly wanted to say it was his broken mask that topped the cake. Heaving a sigh, he had to dispel that thought and swap it for the fact that he was three clicks out from the rendezvous and only had half a varga to get there for extraction. He ignored the fact that the sigh was little more than a desperate gasp for air; the humidity made breathing feel like his lungs were filled with water. 

Sweat dripped down his back as a reminder of how hot it was, mouth dry as sandpaper. His suit didn’t come with a large water pouch like his paladin armour, instead having small hydration orbs for emergencies, and he knew from living in an arid environment that he was suffering from dehydration. The shade above him assured he wouldn’t get sunstroke, but he still frowned at the possibility of heatstroke. He also ignored the absurd voice in his head screaming _‘JeLlO bRaIn’_ , suspiciously sounding like Lance. 

It didn’t help that he was hungry.

Yes, he’d eaten before the mission. Yes, he’d brought rations with him. No, he didn’t have any left. The mission was supposed to be spanned over two quintants, so he’d only packed for four meals. He’d never needed much food to keep going, anyways. That had been trained out of him in the foster system. He ignored how tragic that would sound to the other paladins. He also ignored the pang of guilt over leaving said paladins. He ignored—

He ignored a lot, actually. Like, for example, the faint hum of a Galran speeder that seemed to get louder and louder like an annoying mosquito. He blinked. _Uhhh—_

Keith barely managed to duck under a nearby fern in time to avoid being spotted. Still, the speeder landed only a few yards away. He scowled. 

The mission was _supposed_ to be simple; get in, find the Witch’s secret quintessence lab, gather samples, get out. Unsurprisingly for the former Paladin of Voltron, the _getting out_ part was when plans went awry. With multiple druids seeming to home in on his location, he’d had to act as a distraction so the other Blades could get out with the samples undetected. Thankfully, his distractions were what lead him to leaving the base as well – _who knew chronosynthemum alloy was flammable?_

Needless to say, that was when his mask decided to break. 

Galran chitters brought forth Keith’s focus. He remained still. With his mask broken, he couldn’t contact anyone for help (not that he expected it), nor could he understand what the fuck the surviving druids near him were saying. There were several drones following them, as if they needed the protection. Keith rolled his eyes. It was then that he realised the opening to the speeder was open and that _nobody was inside_. A dark streak of mischief rose within him. He almost laughed. _Like stealing Shiro’s car, all over again. Just hope I don’t need keys this time_.

He eyed his prize with near tunnel vision.

**_GRRRrrrrrrRRRRR!_ **

Keith blinked. He looked down at his stomach, feeling the hunger pains raise to bile-rising levels. Looking up confirmed the unfortunate truth that Druids have Kryptonian-level hearing. _Fuck._

He made his decision. 

_Knowledge or death._

Keith didn’t waiting for the druids to pinpoint his location via obnoxious hunger pains. He made a break for the speeder. Adrenalin blurred his eyesight and sharpened it all at once, quickening his breathing and increasing his heartrate until he was sure it would come up through his throat and strangle him. Breathing became optional as the air seemed to thicken even more along the lining of his trachea and settle at the bottom of his lungs. Tainted lightning splintered the ground under his feet, both propelling him forward and making him stumble every few steps. He thought he could smell burnt flesh through the haze. 

He was almost to the speeder when lightning hit an overhanging pom-pom of a flower half the size of the Red Lion. Keith’s heart almost stopped. The adrenalin kept him moving. He strafed through the bulb of the plant, knife flashing as it sliced in one clean motion. Pollen clung to his sweat, caking heavily along every bit of his body, hair included. It made him look like Hunk’s biggest fan. 

He kept up his streak of ignoring irrelevant thoughts. They’d only gotten weird after the dehydration set in. 

Though he’d cut right through the plant, it served as a good blockade against the druids following him. He rolled into the speeder with as much finesse as Lance had that first training session on Arus. He picked himself up and slammed his body into the controls, pressing the right buttons in order to close the entrance hatch and lift this baby off. By now, he only had about ten doboshes to get to the rendezvous. He breathed.

And promptly regretted that decision when he inhaled some of the pollen caking his mouth. It turned his huffed gasps into choked whimpers, burning its way into his lungs. Keith swallowed and wiped as much of the pollen off of his face and hair as he could with one arm still piloting the speeder. Sensors told him a druid was hot on his tail but he didn’t have time to slow down. His vision blurred from the lack of air. Now that he’d cleaned his face, it became slightly easier to breathe, but not entirely. He felt like he was wheezing out every breath. He saw a clock in the corner of the cabin. He cursed.

_Make that three doboshes._

With scattered thoughts, Keith set the speeder to blow in just under two doboshes. If he didn’t make it out by then, he wasn’t fit to be part of the Blade of Marmora. If he didn’t make it out, then he’d at least take this fucker out with him. Resolve set, Keith accelerated more than what was probably safe for this model. He felt inertia pull him back into his seat with enough force to knock him into near unconsciousness. Keith tightened his grip on the controls. _One dobosh. Make it in one dobosh._ He saw the outline of the extraction vessel through the trees. 

Shrieks emitted from the sensors showed the druid had had enough and begun flinging lightning bolts at him. One of the thrusters went out. His heart stuttered as the vessel careened into the clearing about thirty yards from the extraction point. On impact, he was flung from his chair, having not put on a seat belt, and thrown right through the front visor. He landed with a pained grunt and a roll onto rough, uneven soil. Without thinking, he made a break for the Marmoran ship. Unsteady legs got him through the clearing, aided by the explosion behind him. The force of the explosion licked at his back and forced him into a dive and roll into the vessel. A quick glance around him told him he was the last of five agents to arrive. 

“Take off! Now!” He yelped, urging his colleagues into action. One had only just pressed the button for the hatch at the back when incensed shrieking pierced the air. Keith only got a glimpse before the ship took off; the druid had entered the clearing. The doors shut. A sudden spike of dread and nausea assaulted his senses. He thrust his knife out and elongated it into its awakened form. The druid’s form blinked into existence, right into Keith’s blade. The other blades stilled. They stared. In an act of instinct over all else, Keith jut the knife out of the body and sliced its head clean from its shoulders. Its mask stayed attached to its foul head. He sighed, letting himself collapse backwards until he was seated in front of the corpse. His blade shrunk into dormancy. In memory of Lance, he flipped the decapitated asshole in front of him the bird.

“Fuck you, dude.”

He would’ve kicked the head like a soccer ball if he’d the strength, but as it stood in that moment, he could barely lift his head from its bowed position, chin rested heavily on his collarbone. Keith just focussed on breathing the much cleaner, lighter, _filtered_ air flowing through the vents. It was much easier to suck in than whatever was going down planet-side. He couldn’t even remember what the planet’s name was, just that he never wanted to go down there again. A sudden yearning for his father’s house in the desert called him. Like everything else today that didn’t fit with his usual MO, Keith ignored that too. 

A tap on his shoulder brought him back to the fact that his cheese-puff powdered ass was shaking from exhaustion in front of a bunch of fully-trained elder assassins who probably already saw him weak. Heavily powdered lashes parted open into mere slits. Galactic eyes landed on a large water pouch with _‘Voltron’_ stamped into its centre. He accepted it from whichever Blade had decided to give him the team-issued item, thanking them with a nod of his head. He took small sips. His mouth tasted of strong honey. Keith wrote it off as part of the pollen. He faintly heard Kolivan’s voice in the edges of his hearing. He would’ve winced at the utter _disapproval_ in his tone if he’d the energy to care. He sighed, shutting his eyes against the cabin’s lighting. 

Now that he didn’t have an angry magical banshee after him, Keith’s focus drifted onto other things. Like the sickening hunger clawing through the tissues of his stomach. Like the way his body ached from the _multiple_ explosions in the last varga. Like the way his body shook, not from pain or – he now realised – exhaustion, but from a bone-deep chill he couldn’t shake no matter how insulated his Marmoran suit was. Sweat dripped down his face and neck, cutting into the powder and causing more reason for the chill to cut deep. Something caught at the back of his throat. He coughed to get it out but got caught into a coughing fit that sounded wet and guttural. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath, only coughing and coughing and coughing _and coughing—_

Movement flashed around him in various shades of black and purple. There was a weight on his back. It forced him to curl up further into his fetal position, head pressed into icy metal beneath him. It didn’t ground him as much as he’d hoped it would. Pain bloomed in fiery bursts within his chilled chest. It created a cavity of molten lava where there was once ice. He only stopped coughing when he stopped trying to breathe, allowing his body to go limp and eyes to stare up into his fellow Blades’ blurred faces. They didn’t have masks on, but he couldn’t make out their features through the hazy film that had seized his vision. 

His lungs burned for air, body practically begging for it, but he didn’t have the strength to suck it in. It felt like he was drowning beneath the weight of the fluid inside of him, suffocating as the flour-like pollen filled his nose and throat. He stopped feeling the way his body trembled. He stopped feeling a lot of things, actually. Where did his _‘Voltron’_ water pouch go? Was the druid still nearby? Heads rolled when you kicked them, right? All of it faded into murmurs and then a constant buzz, blacking his vision with hints of red and white. 

He didn’t even have the strength to fight it.


	2. Kolivan DOES Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This here chapter is proof that sleep deprivation doesn't help a brain recover from a cold. It makes it worse. By worse, I mean loopy.
> 
> Then again, y'all probably just wanna see some Keith whump. Don't worry, he's coming next chapter. Needed to get our resident docs in on the case so our boy can live.

“This is Kolivan, requesting contact with the Castle of Lions. Over.”

Pidge perked up from her seat in the controls room. From his crouched position beside her, Matt blinked. As one, they clicked out of the programs syncing their portable wrist-consoles together as a means of intrinsic coding collaboration. The green paladin was quick to forward the Blade of Marmora’s frequency onto her main stationary console, her expression grim. No offence to the Blades, but they never requested contact over small matters. _Something must’ve happened._

“This is Paladin Pidge of the Green Lion. What can I do for you?” She knew she sounded like a standard receptionist, but it was all she could do to keep from visibly tensing. Keeping calm until there was actually trouble had helped her focus on most missions, categorically processing new information as it came instead of _waiting_ for it to come. Anticipation could be a curse and a blessing in equal measures. 

Kolivan’s face appeared onscreen. He looked about as stern as he ever was, betraying nothing. Pidge could respect that. 

“I wish to have medical records for the former black paladin, Keith Kogane. It appears we may have use of them.” His tone was diplomatic, at best. Pidge narrowed her eyes, thinking.

“I… don’t even know if we have them. Uhh… one sec.” She pulled up her gauntlet, accessing the console by plugging it into the mainframe. A few taps later and she read what appeared to be Keith’s medical records from that very first day on Arus. She hummed. Matt leaned in to have a look.

“These are incomplete,” He murmured, ignoring the pointed look Kolivan sent his way through the screen. “Keith’s records from the Garrison have a lot more to go off. Here, I should have a copy with me.” He scrolled through his own wrist console with Holt-level speed. He seemed to find his version of the records in no time at all. “See? Yours barely scratch the surface.”

“How come you have his medical records?” She gave her brother a side-glare. He meekly shrugged.

“You know how dad can get.”

She did.

Pidge looked back at the screen. It was obvious that the Galran leader was eyeing the siblings with strangely unmasked curiosity. She decided to throw him a bone. Figuratively, that is. 

“This is my brother, Matt. He’s with the rebellion.” She was quick to introduce. Matt made himself welcome by giving a wave, receiving a stoic nod for his efforts. Progress. “I can have these files ready to go within the varga; there’s a lot here.” She gave Matt another side-eye, “In the meantime, what’s up? Is Keith alright?” Pidge let her lips curl up at her own cheek as she and Matt each hooked their devices into the console, corroborating their data and placing them into a more complete form of Keith’s medical history, as well as any information on basic human biology. They figured it wouldn’t hurt to be thorough. If she weren’t multitasking in keeping tabs on her console’s screen, she would’ve missed the way Kolivan seemed to hesitate before opening his mouth to respond. 

“He was chosen as part of a team of five to execute a minor espionage mission on a planet not unlike certain regions of Earth, named Kamen. Upon completion of his task, he promptly collapsed. He has been catatonic since. We have reason to believe he is… _ill_ , however I felt such extremes should be run by you and your team before we passed judgement.” His tone was completely flat, as though he were giving a mission report. Heck, Pidge thought, he might as well have given her the whole file. Her chest tightened at the news, frown crinkling her smile away. Matt perked up beside her.

“What do you mean by ‘such extremes’? Is being sick bad for the Galra?” He was quick to ask. She blinked. _That is a good question_. Kolivan seemed to put faith in the Holt siblings by giving them something of a truthful answer.

“Galra do not get sick. If one were to fall _ill_ …” There it was again; the hesitation. “It would spread and kill every fighter like a contagion, regardless of known cures.”

Pidge... _didn’t_ like the sound of that.

“So say, for example, Keith inherited more from his Galra parentage than his human side. If he were to get sick…” Matt left the question hanging; a clear invitation for Kolivan to finish the grizzly sentence.

“We would have to sacrifice those already contaminated to the stars, Keith alongside them.” His tone was final. 

She gulped. 

Her fearful look must have been palpable, as Kolivan had the urge to add in, “All those who were on the mission were placed in quarantine. Until we gain the information necessary to determine this threat, no move has been made to expel the blighted.”

Pidge nodded mutely, focussing on the task at hand. It seemed her previous estimate ETA was overstated; Matt had been more organised than she remembered and transferred the data from his console with all its neat labels and diagnosis’. All that was left to do was fill in Coran’s slightly more recent data into the gaps left behind and send it to the Galran rebel. It was done. She blinked.

“Alright. I think we’re good to go.”

Kolivan nodded his appreciation, bringing up the information up on his own gauntlet console. He hummed appreciatively, probably at the data’s immaculate organisation. _Thanks, dad,_ she thought. 

“I believe this is all the information we may need.” He placed his golden eyes back on Pidge through the screen. She nodded.

“Alright. That’s—” 

“Is there any way we can come in and diagnose him?” Matt cut her off. She sent him a curious look, which was met with an affectionate eye-roll. She rolled her eyes right back, thank you very much. Kolivan didn’t seem to understand the interaction.

“I was under the impression you were both communications experts, not medically trained.” His tone was cautious. Pidge could relate, to some degree. 

“Our parents are doctors,” She explained. “We also got the highest marks back at the Garrison in bio, chem and med lab. Officially, we’re qualified to be dealing with medical cases, we just chose to specialise in IT instead.” 

Kolivan nodded, taking her explanation for what it was worth. He seemed to come to a conclusion.

“In that case, your expertise may be needed, should this condition not be Galran in nature. If possible, please come to these coordinates within the next quintant.” Coordinates pinged across the top of her gauntlet’s screen. She saved them. “They will lead you to a Marmoran outpost that should be suitable to your needs. Those on the mission were sent there for quarantine.”

The Holt siblings nodded in tandem.

“Thanks, Kolivan. We’ll do what we can.” Pidge promised. Matt smiled encouragingly.

“Yeah, ditto.” Their words seemed to bolster the elder Galra, if the barest lax in tension lining his shoulders was anything to go by. Pidge told herself she wasn’t imagining it, if only to hold onto proof that the Galran leader was capable of being affected by his subordinates’ welfare. It was nice to see after dealing with the Empire’s lackeys for so long. 

Kolivan nodded once more at the siblings in thanks.

“Ending transmission.”

The screen blanked out. 

Pidge sighed into her chair, slumping with all the sass of a fifteen year old girl. Matt chuckled. 

“I guess that means we’ll need to tell Shiro and Allura where we’re going, huh.” He mused. Pidge tilted her head.

“Yeah, that’s right. Don’t you have anyone you need to contact? If it’s a human sickness, we might be gone a while.” Her words of concern earned her a fond smile and ruffled hair. She grumbled.

“I shouldn’t need to contact anyone for a while. My name was taken off of mission rosters a little while back since I’m officially meant to be dead. I’ll put it back on once we figure this stuff out with Keith.” He promised, whole-heartedly earnest. Pidge was glad that was one aspect this galactic war hadn’t had the chance to rip from her brother. 

“Well, in that case, I’ll text everyone now.” She held out her space phone in preparation. Matt nodded, standing straight and stretching out his muscles. Several joints popped, to Pidge’s dismay.

“And _I’ll_ go get our things ready for lift-off.” He made it sound like such a chore. She didn’t envy him.

“Kay.”

With her brother finally out the door, Pidge decided on what she’d send her fellow defenders of the universe. Eventually, she decided to be the troll she is, if only to keep everyone from panicking.

_P: Kolivan asked Matt and I to check if Keith’s dying from a Galran disease :D_

She blinked, re-read what she’d sent into the group chat, then winced. _Wonder how they’ll take the smiley face._

_H: Keith’s dying!??!?! WHY ARE YOU SMILING!!!?!?_  
_L: I told you he was more cat than human!!!_

Pidge decidedly ignored Hunk and Lance. She’d be seeing them later, anyways. This was more to keep them in the loop so they didn’t come crying to her about it later.

_S: Settle down. I’m sure there’s an explanation that can clear this up._

Pidge grinned. Trust Shiro to keep things centred.

_P: Yeah, that’s what Matt and I are gonna find out. Pretty sure it’s not Galran, but we still need to check. Might just be a space cold._

_A: I was not aware that one could get cold in space…_

Pidge nearly cried. It was singularly the most ignorant and sarcastic thing anybody has ever put in this group chat and she will forever cherish this moment.

_P: It’s a type of illness. So, fearless leader? You cool with me helping our boy Keith?_  
_S: Yeah. Just make sure you don’t get sick as well. We’ll try to visit when we have a free moment._  
_P: Kk. Cool._

With that, she muted the chat in time to buffer Lance and Hunk blowing it up with questions they’ll ask again in about a varga when they meet up in-person. No need to repeat herself. 

Pocketing her space phone, Pidge got out of her chair in the control room and made her way out. She opened her gauntlet’s console and read through the new information Matt had on Keith and checked it against what Coran had gathered back on Arus, walking absentmindedly in the direction of her room. Her and Matt shared that floor of the residents wing, so it was easy to assume that he’d gone there to start packing. She half-heartedly promised herself she’d help, at least a little. Although…

Maybe if she dangled info about the Earth shop, he’d be willing to do all the work—

A chiding rumble resounded through her head. She slumped, pausing her reading mid-sentence. _Yeah, alright. I know. Helping is caring and all that._ Her thoughts earned her a warm caress, as though her lion was nuzzling her for her good behaviour. Pidge took it, continuing on her way. Re-reading the line, she paused, head tilted quizzically. She didn’t think she read that quite right.

“Keith’s got a problem with _shedding_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might feel a little filler-ey, but I needed to make it clear that Kolivan cares about Keith and that he wasn't actually disapproving last chapter, just a little (okay, a LOT) on edge. 
> 
> Also, I was gonna use Mr Holt, but he doesn't come in until season 5. Sigh. In any case, we have two resident geniuses on hand to help out. I hope they weren't OOC. They felt real to me, but I'm the writer and anything feels real if you drink enough.
> 
> Alright, guys! Y'all know the drill. Lemme know what ya think! If you think I need to edit anything (summary, spelling, etc. etc.) then pls speak up. I know this is my vent-fic but at the very least y'all put in the effort to read this junk. I might as well make it enjoyable.
> 
> Love y'all lots.


	3. Keith Be Woketh, But He Also Be Sleepeth

Keith wasn’t sure what woke him. 

It had to be something, he was sure; he felt like he’d just gone toe-to-toe with Zarkon and _lost_. 

Taking stock of himself – and dimly pleased to find that every limb was where it should be – he realised he was laying in a resting bay, blanket atop his frame to fend off the chill. Tilting his head to the side revealed a room similar to his one on the main base; The only difference was the lack of trinkets Hunk, Lance and Pidge had given him when he’d gone to be a full-time Blade. 

For a moment, he thought of getting up. He really did. But even tilting his head to scan the room brought home a headache the size of Kansas and all the fury of a hurricane. It throbbed behind his right eye, causing the room to spin and waver. Nausea stopped him from making any further movement, even to tilt his head away from the visage. He closed his eye and breathed. It took him a moment to realise it was loud and nasally, as if his body was clogged from the inside. Remembering how it felt last time he was awake made him glad that noisy breathing was all he came out with. 

His back was sore from lying on it for so long. Although his body was heavy, he managed to turn himself onto his side. The blanket shifted as he moved, revealing his bare shoulders and half his torso. In doing so, he realised that the blanket wasn’t just to keep him warm; he was butt-naked. 

It occurred to him that the Galra have fur and the only reason he had a blanket was because he did not.

Still, despite the blanket serving to keep his body warm, he felt _too_ warm, as if he had small fires beneath the skin travelling up and down his limbs and torso and head at irregular intervals. It left him flushed and breathless, weak and unable to wipe the sweat from his soaked forehead. 

He didn’t shake or tremble from the aches that lined him; just curled beneath his blanket and pressed his face into the standard-issue pillow under his head. Breathing became easier with this new position, and as long as he kept his eyes shut, he could avoid the nausea and warped vision accompanying the outside world. 

Keith’s ears felt clogged and swollen, but he thought he could hear the tell-tale hiss of the room’s doorway opening. The skin uncovered by the blanket felt the shift in air as someone entered the otherwise still atmosphere. He felt, rather than heard, the newcomer stride forward. They moved to his side, lifting the blanket and adjusting it until it covered him properly. 

He cracked his eyes open just a peek when they placed a large hand on the side of his head. Keith leaned into the hand, if only to see who was touching him. His eyes wouldn’t work right, though; only seeing a muted shadow of a looming person – _had to be Galra_ , he thought – and the faintest hints of yellow where their head should be. The hand left his head, probably drenched in the sweat that caked his hair. Keith closed his eyes, relaxing back into his pillow. If they wanted to kill him, he wasn’t in any position to fight back. It didn’t matter at this point. 

Strangely enough, the figure _didn’t_ try to kill him; they tried to help him. They placed a cool moist cloth of some kind atop his head. The chill was surprising and he shied away at first, but quickly realised what it was and let it happen. They wiped the cloth at his forehead, both soaking up excess moisture and cooling off his flaming temples. He relaxed under the steady ministrations, oddly at peace. 

The Galra weren’t like Humans. They used quintessence as a source of power and could strip a planet of its life force in the blink of an eye, but they had yet to use kindness as a means of torture. Considering all he knew of the race, if something appeared to be good, it probably was. 

Galrans didn’t forgo pragmatism. 

At that thought, something tickled at the back of his throat. Keith drew up what strength he had and coughed. He would have winced if he could; the noise was feeble at best, borderline kitten-like. His throat was dry and muted from disuse, now sore to boot. He held in his embarrassment; he’d already proven how _weak_ he was when he’d fallen to this illness during the mission. 

The figure above him paused. Keith was mortified enough without opening his eyes, so he didn’t bother to see what they were doing. Imagine his surprise when a tube-like object was pressed to his lips. He opened his eyes just a crack, worried he’d be thrown into the throes of nausea, and quickly focussed on the straw and vibrant trimming of his _Voltron_ water pouch being offered to sooth his dry throat. With slight hesitation he let the object into his mouth, feeling a little weird about needing help drinking water. Keith found it easier to ignore after he’d had a few sips. 

Dizziness assaulted him enough to stop drinking and just _breathe_. It seemed the effort it took to drink water had been enough to rob him of what strength he had left. He fell further into his pillow with a deep sigh. His stomach felt like a bottomless chasm – an empty void in need of fuel to continue running his body – but he didn’t know if he had the strength to eat, let alone ask for food. His body seemed to choose its own course of action, though. It relaxed under the figure’s continued ministrations, cool cloth promising to douse the flames that charred him from the inside. 

The care sent him into a pleasant doze. Keith’s eyelids fluttered shut. 

He let himself float into a natural sleep. 

~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~

Kolivan was not a stranger to caring for younglings. 

He’d lived many a millennia; perhaps not long enough to see the rise of Zarkon’s second reign, but long enough to know the joys of holding younglings of his own, and their younglings in turn. 

Long enough to see _illness_ wipe them from existence long before they’d considered their place in this universe. 

When the green paladin and her brother had initially arrived and checked their half-breed friend, Kolivan was grim with the knowledge that even half-breeds could be exterminated by blight. He’d been prepared to sanitise this outpost of the contagion. _All_ of it. 

His weary eyes landed on the newest Blade. Even when the small form had succumbed to the cradles of sleep, his breathing sounded more like frail gasps for air. The Marmoran leader had been told that the _illness_ was not Galran in nature, but very much Human. It was a relief; had Kolivan acted based on prior misinformation, the Blade of Marmora would be five members short, one of which was barely old enough to escape the term of _kit_. 

Truly, the sounds escaping the former paladin on the resting bay revealed his age in Galran terms; faint rumbles beneath struggled breathing denoted pleasure at the soft caresses along his forehead. This was the sign of a true youngling, older than a kit by a few short phoebs. He would’ve graduated that stage shortly before his first meeting with the Marmoran headquarters. Kolivan was sure the youngling did not know of this reaction. He may decide to compile a file on Galran biology, if only to assist the half-breed where needed. Apparently _shedding_ was not a common human condition…

Shifting his focus from the beginnings of his amusement, Kolivan saw that some of the flush that had plagued the former paladin had been dispelled. A _fever_ , the Holt children had said. He was familiar enough with the term as it was one sign of _illness_ , but according to the siblings this was a milder version to what the Galra were taught to fear. They’d guaranteed this _fever_ would not turn the youngest Blade into a mindless beast. 

They’d also spoken of _zombies_ , but Kolivan had been assured that the term referred to nothing more than a mad human scientist’s aspirations, bred by the fringes of depravity. Humans were certainly… _creative_. 

Regardless, the Marmoran leader was quick to come and see Keith’s condition for himself. It was mere fortuitous timing that the youngling had roused from his comatose state soon after Kolivan’s arrival to the base, if only to fall into a deep natural sleep shortly after. The Holt siblings briefed him of the youngling’s condition in full – reminding him of their earlier transmission where they’d discovered the affliction to be Human in nature – and that natural sleep was best for a fast recovery, before granting suggestions on sickly care. They were still settling themselves within the medical unit of the base when Kolivan had insisted on assisting where he could. He promptly asked to check on Keith’s _fever_ and to tend to it while they worked. 

Before he’d left the unit, he’d told the siblings that they had full use of this base, as it had been stripped of all but the essential power generators and bathing units. Those on the mission had already been told to come back to headquarters; unsurprisingly, they were not affected by the affliction. It had been over a millennia since younglings had been with the Blade of Marmora, so many Blades were unfamiliar with the necessary care for them; those who were had already been sent on deep cover missions across Zarkon’s High Command units, leaving him to carry the torch in their stead. 

And carry it, he did. 

Kolivan used the filled bucket by his feet to rinse the cloth of its heat and then reapply fresh chill to fiery skin. It was somewhat strange caring for a youngling with no fur, but certainly not the strangest, nor the most difficult texture to work with. He could still remember how Antok refused to bathe as a youngling and would shred his washcloth with the graze of his scales. The smoothness of a Human’s skin was a relief compared to those days. 

It was an almost faded feeling of fondness that blossomed beneath the stoic exterior the Galran rebel often wore. He let an age-old instinct to care for those weaker than him take hold, dictating his movements with the gentle reservations of a parent or elder relative. Soft rumbles from the youngling in his care fed this instinct, as intrinsic as it already was, and kept him satiated even through the heavy breathing uncommon to Galran kits. 

His ministrations were halted, to the audible displeasure underlying it, when the doorway opened. The entrance revealed two human figures – the red and yellow paladins outside of their armor – peeking their heads in. When seeing Kolivan, they seemed to be instantly chastised. He hadn’t even said anything yet. 

“Uh, we were here to check up on Keith. Heard he wasn’t feeling to good, right now.” The yellow paladin explained. The red paladin nodded his head in agreement. Kolivan looked to the two in the doorway. He didn’t miss how the change in airflow caused the youngling to shiver. 

“He’s resting. I’m afraid there’s nothing more to do but wait for the Holts to deliver a cure.” Kolivan did not move from his position at Keith’s bedside. A pack-like mindset had set in, urging him to keep away the foreigners. Kolivan quietly mused that perhaps this was why he was so often called to youngling duty and not kits, those early days of the Blade. He certainly did his job too well.

Still, the paladins were alright to let this behaviour stand. Kolivan realised belatedly that they were _nervous_. Of _him_. As they should, he thought, for the youngling must recover. 

“Right! Uh, that’s cool. Um, if you need us, we will be familiarising ourselves with your base’s kitchen. Call us if he’s hungry?” The yellow paladin was obviously delegated to speak to him. Still, the offer was well-thought. Kolivan accepted.

“Great! We’ll be going, then. B-bye!” With that, they left, the door closing with a hiss behind them. The youngling’s shivering abated somewhat now that the airflow had settled. Kolivan placed a hand on his head, black strands curling around his fingers. For a while, he sat there. Simply content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actual notes in my word document:  
>  _Limit: 10 chapters. Maybe an epilogue. See how much I like it. Fic set just after The Voltron Show. (which is why Allura and Shiro are busy -- > discussing Lotor). Need to write another fic after S4E6 finale because Keith x Lotor save me pls._
> 
> I originally had this note at the end of my first chapter of this fic, but it kept appearing like a watermark for the rest of the fic so I decided to put it here. Y'all know this shit ain't gonna be 10 chapters long. Thank Icecream_Paladin for this (if you don't know what I'm talking about, check this chapter's comments for the thread). They're right. I need to seriously address an issue of CHARACTER UNDERDEVELOPMENT. :pensive: Serious stuff, that is. Hope y'all don't mind.


	4. Flowers Make Great Catnip--I Mean Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a discord so we can discuss stuff like Voltron and this fic and stuff. Hope someone joins. 
> 
> https://discord.gg/awxVjkh

“I swear, dude, Kolivan was gonna _eat us_.”

“Ugh, no he wasn’t, Lance. He’s probably just stressed out.”

“Yeah. Stressed from _us_. That’s why he was gonna eat us!”

Their bickering lasted them the whole way to the medical unit of the base, which happened to be next to the communal kitchen. Pidge glanced up from the charts in her hands detailing the medical equipment mock tests, giving the boys a quizzical look. Matt took their banter in stride.

“If he looked like he was gonna eat you, he probably was at least thinking about it.” The sparkle in his eyes suggested pure mirth. He hid his smile behind the mock incubator the siblings had made from a spare cryopod, making eye-contact when she gave him an unimpressed look. He mutely gestured for her to play along. She rolled her eyes but acquiesced. 

“You know how the Galra are. Who knows? Maybe the Druids were originally tasked to eat babies.” Her voice was perfectly blasé, as if she’d seen it happen in action. She jumped down from her spot atop the room’s generator with all the laze and grace of someone who didn’t just propose cannibalism. Lance and Hunk balked in the doorway, looking a few jabs away from hurling across the floor. She looked at her brother to see if he was thoroughly amused; she enjoyed messing with her fellow paladins but she’d rather _not_ have to deal with barf. Thankfully, his mirth appeared to be sated.

For now.

Pidge knew full well how much of a troll her brother can be. 

She was glad to have him back.

“I take it Kolivan kicked you out?” Matt asked in jest. He leaned his weight against the thick glass of the incubator, head propped by his hands. It struck Pidge how much _taller_ he was to when she’d last seen him on Earth. She knew she was taller too, but the height gap was greater now. She kept the flash of aching nostalgia locked tight in the deepest corners of her heart. No way was she going down _that_ rabbit hole. 

Good thing Lance was a great distraction.

“He didn’t even _have_ to. He was just sitting there petting Keith – like he was a _kitten_ , or something – and, I’m telling you right now, Kolivan was in _Momma Cat_ mode.” He whispered that last part, as if telling a horror story at a slumber party and he was scared the ghost might pop out any second. Standing next to the room’s generator, Pidge faced a temptation like no other. 

_To make the fear real, or to leave him with his dignity._

She thought about that one. She really did. 

_What dignity?_

Hunk being in the room was the only thing that stopped her. She begrudgingly admitted that terrifying her fellow geek wasn’t worth the pleasure of getting one over Lance.

“You don’t have to do that.” Hunk said, voice as meek as it was pointed. Lance was confused.

“Do what?”

“Compare them to cats all the time. Like, they don’t even _purr_.” 

Matt and Pidge looked at each other from across the room, sharing a wry expression. According to a _certain file_ on Galran biology Kolivan granted them, there _was_ reason enough to dispute that. 

“So, what? That makes them not cats?” Oh, Lance.

“I’m just saying…”

“Okay. Hunk, buddy, mi amigo. If I can prove that Galra purr, will this mean they’re cats?” He proposed it with a straight face. Pidge dimly realised he was serious. Poor Keith.

 _I’ll only get involved if he starts growing fur_ , she promised, a small part of her – okay, a _large_ part – doubting it would happen. She could understand purring, but from these files, Keith had shed _human hair_ , never fur. 

Hunk sighed.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not all—”

“How much you wanna bet?” Lance cut him off, already taking out his space phone to log the bet. Hunk looked slightly guilty for ever starting this, but otherwise accepted his fate as conspirator. 

“Five GACs on ‘purr’!” Matt’s voice piped up, drawing their attention his way. Lance gave Hunk a sly smirk, waiting for him to put in the counter bet. 

“Ugh, _fine_. Five GACs on ‘no purr’.” 

“I knew you’d see the light,” Lance seemed satisfied with the bet, probably marking himself into the betting circle. He looked at Pidge.

“You in?” He invited. She shook her head.

“Allura already gave me an allowance for _sparkly things_." She made her distaste known by the scrunch of her nose. Pidge figured she'd let her fellow defenders of the universe in on a little secret. With an impish grin, she commented, "was gonna use it for space catnip.” 

Lance gaped. “They have _catnip_ in _space_?”

“They do, now.” She brandished some of the samples of yellow plant matter her and Matt had been able to get while Kolivan was bathing Keith earlier. The scans seemed to match the bio-readings of various Earth-strands of catnip. It wasn’t an exact match, but it was close enough to hypothesise its effects on their hot-tempered friend. 

“Dude.” Lance was _loving_ this. “He’s high.”

Hunk looked so scandalised, but Pidge remained quiet. Lance seemed to take her silence as confirmation enough.

“He _is_ , isn’t he? Oh _man_. No _wonder_ Kolivan was so protective over Keith. He’s probably never seen someone high before. This makes so much _sense_!” 

Matt snorted, which turned into a full-bellied laugh. Pidge sighed.

“If you’re not here to set up the equipment, go do something useful. Make us a snack, or something. That _was_ what we called you for.” She dismissed them, fully expecting them to leave the room. Hunk _thankfully_ agreed. He nudged Lance until they were outside the room.

“Call us if anything comes up. We’ll be in the kitchen!” he said, exiting the room. Lance held up finger-guns as a means of farewell. Then, the room was back to its relative silence, soft beeps sounding at irregular intervals in conjunction with various tests being run. 

“Hope this incubator works,” She muttered, the corner of her mouth tilting downward out of concern. She knew how fast foreign bacteria could attack a weakened body. It was a good thing she’d called Hunk to handle the nutrition portion of the recovery. Lance coming was just a bonus; if there was someone who could distract Keith from his generally bad mood, it was him.

Even if he was usually putting him _in_ that bad mood. 

Hopefully that won’t happen.

Pidge felt herself feeding into a lot of hopes, these days. 

“It will,” Matt said. Pidge gave a start, but it earned her a forgiving look. They weren’t as used to working together as they once were, but it was something they were working on. She supposed having someone to answer to her idle thoughts was nice, in a way. 

She got back to work. It was only fair that she match Matt’s faith with reality.

~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~

It was oddly nostalgic watching Hunk work. 

It reminded Lance of his mom and sisters whenever they were happy. They’d make spontaneous feasts just because their favourite song was on or the sky was a particularly nice shade of blue. They’d hum and dance and sometimes jump up and down in the same spot for ages until moving on to the next recipe. The rest of his family would be out in the yard working or babysitting the kids. It was always hot, so eventually someone would start a water fight. He could almost feel the sun warming his skin.

The homesickness wasn’t as bad as it used to be, but it still made him teary when he thought of never seeing them again. At least he didn’t feel like losing his lunch every time someone mentioned Earth anymore. Those first few months were _rough_.

He was glad that snippets of home didn’t hurt anymore, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to handle Hunk’s humming or the way he seemed to dance in place between heating plates. It was like back at the Garrison; nothing between them had ever changed.

In retrospect, he supposed one thing _did_ change. At the Garrison, he never would’ve been caught making an incense cloth bouquet of vibrant Earth flowers to help Keith get better. It wasn’t as easy to do without Rachel and Veronica helping him choose the best flowers, but in a way, it made it simple. Lance ended up just making every flower he could think of, pairing up the cloth creations with oil blends he’d had Hunk test out to find the best matching scents. 

They’d been at their various tasks for a while, with Lance even leaving temporarily to get Keith’s clothes from the Blade of Marmora’s headquarters. On the way back, he’d made it a point to drop by his room at the Castle of Lions for his pick-me-up bag, filled with everything he could think of that would help his friend feel better. Or distracted. Either works, really.

It was still weird, thinking of Keith as his friend. He knew by now that the whole ‘ _rivalry_ ’ thing was just in his head; Keith told him as much. They were pretty much family at this point, even if the grump left the team. 

Family’s family, even if they got a bunch of distance between ‘em. 

So, yeah; Lance was making a bunch of bouquets of scented cloth flowers. Yes, he fully intended to decorate the guy’s room as soon as _Kitty Gonzales_ decided to let up on the whole ‘momma cat’ schtick. No, he was _not_ going to challenge said momma cat into entering the room. 

He wasn’t _that_ stupid, okay?

Proud of his own survival instinct – and _owning_ it – he continued his crafts with deft hands, looking up every once in a while to see how Hunk was doing. It was soft. It was comfy. It was nostalgic. 

He liked it.

And for the record: no, he didn’t actually think Keith was high. He just wanted to lighten the mood. As stupid as it sounded, it was weird thinking of Keith as someone who _got sick_.

He just hoped mullet-brain got better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaah this chapter was so comfy. And angsty. And just omgggggg. These characters made me chry. Did you see that typo? That's right, I said CHRY. It's bigger than cry. pronounced "khhh-rhy". 
> 
> I just...
> 
> I can imagine Lance sitting at a table while Hunk cooked up a storm in the background, just making cloth flowers and infusing them with incense oils to make them smell pretty, just for our boi Keith. I really could. 
> 
> And just, Pidge. Omg she's got so much going through her head. I just hope that having her brother here is helping her get through some of it. Poor thing.


	5. Don't Go

He sat on the fringes of consciousness. 

It wasn’t like you see in the movies; where the protagonist is curled into a ball, surrounded by darkness – a _void_. No. He wasn’t surrounded by nothingness. He wasn’t alone. 

_They_ were here, too. 

They perched nearby; not close to this cliffside cut so far he couldn’t see the ground, but not so far that he couldn’t hear them calling for him. He would’ve answered the moment he’d realised but the view before him stole his attention. Every last drop of it. 

Out there, beyond a skyline he didn’t think actually existed, were orbs scattered across a moonless sky. They shone brightly against their canvas, twinkling and dancing wherever they could. Some shot across the sky while others stood idle. There was a stillness in the air, but not one he found unnerving.

“Keith?”

A familiar voice jolted him from his awe. He glanced up and to the left, where he knew Shiro would be. He seemed just as surprised to see him there. Keith gave a small smile; he didn’t mind the interruption. 

“Hey, Shiro.” His voice contained all the warmth he’d only ever reserved for him. It was soft, intimate; the kind that he only used when they were alone. It brought a similarly soft smile to Shiro’s face. 

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” The older male sat beside him on the cliffside, shoulder-to-shoulder. Keith leaned into him, accepting the arm that was draped across his shoulders. The weight was familiar even if the cold metal seeping in through his clothes wasn’t. It was strange how that was the only sensation he could fathom. All other senses seemed muted, in a way.

“Yeah, well, I don’t even know where _here_ is, exactly.” He joked, shaking off the feeling of wrongness in this world where everything seemed _right_. Even the lapse of silence that stretched into the eternal horizon felt right in a way that hadn’t been since Shiro had left that first time for Kerberos.

He’d missed this.

“I missed you.” Shiro’s admission caught him by surprise. Keith’s eyes widened in response, feeling caught out; head tilted so he could see his mentor’s face better. It was younger than he remembered; not as worn. It was the same face that he’d remembered seeing on Arus, before they’d discovered Voltron was comprised of not one, but _five_ lions. It was one that still held on to unusually fragile hope. Keith had always admired him for it. His confusion mixed with a tenderness he usually tried to hide when in the presence of others. He didn’t hide it, now. 

“We saw each other not that long ago…” Keith’s brow crinkled; mouth curled into a wry smirk – one Shiro usually matched with a smirk of his own. Keith felt an inkling of dread when it was nowhere to be found. Dark, galactic eyes searched that scarred and defined face, looking for clues as to the melancholy he could almost taste in the air. “What’s wrong?”

“…I keep wondering if it was a mistake,” Shiro finally answered, after a brief pause that felt longer than it probably was. He met Keith’s concerned gaze with a tired one of his own. Suddenly, his features softened, eyes lightening with fondness. He let out a breath of air. “Ignore me. I think this place is starting to get to me. You should probably wake up, now.” His left hand – _human_ hand – reached up and ruffled Keith’s hair. All at once, the world around them began to fade, taking Shiro with it. Keith’s face filled with alarm.

“Shiro! Wait – what do you _mean_? What was a mistake!?” 

The weight of his arm dissipated, leaving him bereft in all that anchored him to that plane. He felt his heartrate pick up, heard it in his ears. His breathing quickened of its own volition.

“ ** _Shiro!_** ”

A weight landed on the side of his head, snapping the scene from his grasp like the crack of a whip. Keith gasped in shock, eyes shooting open – _when had he closed them?_ – and his body reflexively sat up, head turning from side to side in near hysteria. The sudden movement made everything blur. Bile rose up his throat. It burned at his nose hairs even before he’d dispensed it at the side of the sleeping bay. 

_Sleeping bay… Shiro… Lions – what? I don’t under— I don’t understand—_

His thoughts were in shambles as he spluttered over the bay’s edge. Thick wet globs of phlegm were hacked up as he struggled to control his breathing, barely cognizant of a weight heavily patting against this back helping him expel the fluids clogging his airways. By the fifth or sixth pat – maybe it was more like _twentieth_ and he forgot how to count properly – his coughing fit subsided somewhat, to the extent where it didn’t feel like he was about to cough up his liver and a kidney. 

He was left weakly shaking, as if in a chill, draped across the edge of his sleeping bay. He felt cold inside his chest, but the fires from earlier had returned with a vengeance. Swallowing was like shoving a thousand needles down his throat at once and then trying to pick them out one by one. Breathing didn’t feel much better. At least he wasn’t drowning in his own spittle; life was full of small miracles. 

Keith’s limbs fell limply around him, unable to hold his torso up. His head tipped forward and for a moment he thought he’d tumble forward into his pile of sick; maybe drown there if he landed face-down. His mind spiralled with macabre thoughts, dimly aware of the thick arm that had bound itself around his torso and hoisted him into a more seated position. 

His back was pressed into something sturdy and soft. Keith pushed his head back into it, using it as a means of grounding himself. He felt dizzy and light all at once, static filling his mind and the corners of his vision to the point where he couldn’t comprehend what lay before his open eyes. He shut them, aware that no difference was made. 

Keith distantly realised that whatever he was leaning against was moving. It was subtle, rhythmic, soothing. There was a steady beat beneath the motions; the noise working wonders for his state of mind. Slowly, he felt himself detach from his hysteric state and match his breathing to the rhythm behind him. It was simple, lacking a need for thought. It was this quality that helped him release the static that had cloaked his mind in a perpetual blindfold. With it gone, he was made aware of a throbbing headache he’d thought gone earlier; clearly he’d been wrong.

The acrid taste of bile lined his teeth and tongue. It coiled into his nose and grounded him further into a more stable state of mind. He grasped onto the discomfort with both hands, using it as a means of gathering his wits and whatever reserves of strength he had left to open his eyes. His gaze met the back corner of his sleeping bay and a small sliver of the room beyond. Keith was only allowed a brief moment to take it in before needing to shut his eyes once more. 

The static came back, hovering at the edge of his consciousness as a new wave of bile rose in his throat. He tried to push it back; his success minimal but enough. Slowly, but surely, the bile settled at the back of his throat. It burned. Keith had to admit it was uncomfortable but he didn’t think he could open his eyes again in search of water, even if he wanted to. 

The familiar feel of a water pouch straw against his lips had him close them around the object, sucking on instinct until cool fresh water washed the bile away. He relaxed further into his unnameable support, sipping periodically until even the aftertaste of bile was gone. When the straw was moved away from his mouth, he simply sat there, propped up; held by burly arms and tucked into a pocket of warmth as it fought valiantly against the chill inside. He shivered. 

The dream returned to him in chunks and whispers. Keith found himself frowning against the pattering thoughts and sickening worry that kept welling within him.

_What did he mean? What was a mistake?_

_… Shiro…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was meant to add humor in this chapter, but didn't know how I was gonna tie it in so I left it for the next chapter. On the plus side: Y'all got more angst!
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed!


	6. This Boy Is On Fire

“… _Shiro_ …” 

Kolivan looked up from the tablet in his lap feeding him information from the Holt siblings. He’d only just told them of Keith’s unwavering fever when he’d heard the half-mumbled word. He blinked, eyes taking in the youngling’s clenched fists and furrowed brow. He was not aware humans could dream; he typed as much into the tablet’s communication tab. The green paladin was quick to respond, stating all humans dreamed but not all dreams could be remembered. He hummed. 

“What was a mistake?” The words were spoken clearly, as if the youngling were awake. However, it was not the words themselves that caught Kolivan by surprise. The tone was one of anguish; raw and unchecked as those first few missions after Keith had joined the Blade. A glance revealed bared teeth, canines sharpening from the pressure between his jaws. 

From where he sat, at the edge of the sleeping bay, the Marmoran leader could feel the permanent fever blaze anew. A thin sheen of sweat broke out across the youngling’s body, dampening the blanket that had previously helped regulate his body temperature. Now, Kolivan feared it may be the thing that tipped him over the edge.

He typed as much to Pidge and her brother, requesting that they make their way to the sleeping quarters immediately. He didn’t get to read their response.

“ _Shiro!_ ” 

The intensity of whatever dream Keith was having was enough to break his voice, heat coiling off of his body and attacking the very air he breathed. Kolivan did the only thing he knew to sooth the youngling; he placed his hand atop his head and began to pet at his hair. He did not know if the green paladin was coming, but for the sake of his charge, he needed to stay focussed. In the event where Pidge did not arrive within the next few doboshes, Kolivan would take his charge to her. 

He almost did so the moment Keith bolted upright, whipping his head back and forth as unadulterated fear and the vestiges of pain played across his features. If Kolivan were to relate it to his own face in his youth, he’d label the expression one of unanticipated loss. The aimless display of agony gave him reason to pause, even as the youngling swayed and pitched to the side of his sleeping bay; expelling what was left of his diminished bodily fluids. 

The Marmoran leader only needed a moment to shake off his hesitation; something he hadn’t faced in eons. When he next took notice of the youngling, he’d lost all strength in his arms – the only limbs capable of holding him up at this time – and fell limp, pitching forward in the direction of his own sick. Kolivan leaned forward, scooping the smaller body with little effort. He brought it close, feeling the shivers wrack across burning skin. 

With an age-old instinct, he pinned the youngling to his chest and simply held him; breath evenly paced and heartbeat steady. His usual hum was swapped for a deep-chested rumble; one he hadn’t used since Krolia was a kit. Looking down at the exhausted youngling, Kolivan felt it right that he reuse such an old trick; he was as his mother had been, lulled only by the gentle purr of a caregiver. 

So few Galra could remember the soft caregivers assigned to them within the empire. Kits were separated from them before the youngling stage, then the caregivers would be pressed to foster the next batch. So few of these caregivers had been liberated into the Blade, even in Kolivan’s youth. He hoped to someday change that.

When Keith’s breathing evened out, matching his own, Kolivan grasped one of the many water pouches he’d stacked within arm’s reach. With one hand, he assembled the straw so that it bent for easier access, then pressed it into the gap between the youngling’s lips. 

He drank instinctively, Kolivan was pleased to note, and finished the pouch within doboshes despite taking small sips. It was then that he relaxed, further lulled from his panic by the quiet rumbles accompanying the Marmoran leader’s respiratory rhythm. Kolivan knew the youngling was awake, but he also knew it was tentative at best. 

The fever raged on. 

The door leading out into the hall hissed open. The green paladin skidded into the room, red paladin in tow. They stopped in the entrance for a moment to regain their breath before taking in the room for changes. Kolivan saw the instant they laid eyes on Keith. 

“Crap!” Pidge exclaimed, bounding forward and reaching over with a strange device that looked somewhat like a handheld blaster. She was mindful of the bile and mucus at her feet, shifting away with not even a speck of sick on her shoes. She looked down at her device and hummed. “It’s too high. Kolivan, can you carry him to the medical unit? The incubator’s ready for use.” Her eyes were hard, face set into an expression of grim determination. 

Without preamble, Kolivan agreed. He scooped Keith up into his arms; blanket wrapped around the heated body so his armour wouldn’t further irritate flushed skin. 

“I’ll clean this mess up.” The red paladin said, moving to gather cleaning supplies after receiving a nod from his companion. Kolivan paid him no mind; the youngling’s distress was now audible for even his human friends to hear. 

He purred softly to his charge, as was his duty as caregiver, but the effects were not as favourable as earlier. Instead of being lulled into a natural state of sedation, only the more prominent of whimpers were quelled. The fever still raged dangerously so and previously scrunched eyelids began to flutter. Whenever his eyes briefly opened, Keith’s gaze was distant; listless. Kolivan sensed something was wrong. Very wrong.

With the green paladin leading the way, the Galran rebel carried the youngling with haste to the medical unit. There, in the centre of the room, was the incubator that the Holt siblings claimed would help his youngest Blade. The changes in light irritated the young one, if his half-moan and the way he pushed his face into Kolivan’s fur was anything to go by. 

Still, he parted from the former paladin with a grim acceptance; laying him down in the curve of the incubator and letting the green paladin’s brother close the lid overtop. The siblings fiddled with various buttons and levers attached to the tail of the incubator, but nothing happened until they pressed a large green button nearest Keith’s feet. Instantly, cool air began to emanate from the incubator. When he looked, Kolivan saw a light spray of water wash over the uncovered mop of dark human hair, moving down Keith’s prone form. The water rinsed in a cycle, every five doboshes, on the dobosh. Despite the chill, Kolivan stepped up beside Keith’s head and placed a hand against the glass. 

He vowed to show steady support for his Blades; that did not falter now.

“Alright. We’ll run this cycle for another varga, then take out the humidity.” The male Holt sibling said. He was looking at a set of screens nearby, all appearing to pertain to the incubator’s user. Kolivan studied the graphs from his position by his Blade, as was ingrained in him.

“Guess all that’s left to do is wait.” Pidge murmured. 

_Yes_ , he thought. _We shall._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't supposed to be this way. Like, I knew Keith had to get worse, otherwise we wouldn't have all the chapters we'd need to make me satisfied with this fic. But, like, I'd planned _humor_. I'd planned _bonding_. This was just--
> 
> This was just depressing. 
> 
> I'm sorry. I'm so sorry the story turned out this way. It, like, grew a life of its own and is now making me write it out how it wants to be written. I mean, I'm not complaining. It makes it more organic. I just hope Keith gets better, now lmao.
> 
> My only relief in this chapter is that Kolivan is so chill, even when everything's going to shit. Didn't have to add too many italics in this chapter (which is, like, _score_ because it's 4:45am and I can't see my keys anymore lmaooooo
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed.


	7. Thank-You

It had been several hours since Keith’s body had tried to self-combust in all its naked glory. Since then, the puddle of vomit in his recovery room had been cleaned, scented cloth bouquets now decorated both the recovery room and the medical unit, and Lance had even had time to taste-test Hunk’s space stew – which, by the way, was _awesome_ – in the form of lunch. It was now nearing the time for dinner, but he wasn’t hungry yet. He’d been lazing by Keith’s incubator-pod-thing while the guy phased in and out of consciousness, enjoying the cool air that escaped from the machine. 

Kolivan had been needed back at the Blade of Marmora headquarters, but only agreed to leave if someone promised to physically take his place by Keith’s sleeping ass in his absence. That someone turned out to be him; not that Lance was complaining. There was something pleasant about having your back pressed to a space air-conditioner while going through – no doubt _dead_ – memes on his space phone. 

His phone from Earth had stuck around until about a week ago, before the battery gave up and burned out. It was a good thing he’d transferred all his data to these paladin-issued wonders. Heck, he still had photos from his childhood home in Cuba stored in this thing. If he decided to get lost in fond memories while looking at them from time to time, the only person around to catch him was Keith, and that guy was still delirious from his brain melting.

Okay, so his brain hadn’t actually melted. It’s just easier to say than ‘ _hyper_ thermia’ and not confusing it with ‘ _hypo_ thermia’. Is ‘ _hypno_ thermia’ a thing? Thank you, English language. Once again, you’ve made things more confusing than they needed to be.

_Tap-tap!_

Lance screamed. Not you average manly-man scream, but the baby girl kind when she sees a spider. It took him one heart-stopping moment to twist his head around and process the fact that it was _Keith_ who nearly jumpscared him into the next dimension. He would’ve fumed if Keith didn’t look so… so…

_Damn. He doesn’t look too hot._

It was true. Keith had circles under his eyes that looked like they had their own circles, his skin was a pasty grey instead of its usual cream, and damn if that glazed expression didn’t ring some kind of warning bells in his head. The flash of concern was enough to erase any irritation trying to bleed into his vocabulary. Lance gulped.

“Hey, buddy. You feeling better?” He asked, not sure what else to say. He saw Keith’s lips move, as if he were speaking, but no sound could be heard through the incubator’s glass. Lance blinked. He looked down at his space phone; an idea struck him. He mimed for Keith to wait just a second, only standing when he received a nod. 

In moments, he’d gone to pidge’s makeshift workstation and found his bag of goodies. He rifled through it for a moment before producing another space phone identical to his own. He turned it on, pleased to see Keith’s name light up the screen once it loaded. After checking to make sure all the volume and brightness settings were as low as they would go – yes, Keith, he was paying attention – he made his way back to the incubator. 

Once he was within reach and sight of one very grumpy hybrid, Lance opened a hatch near Keith’s head. The narrow opening let out a puff of cool dry air. To avoid letting out too much cool air, Lance slipped the other space phone through the slot and close the hatch back up. He stood there for a moment, waiting until Keith picked up the sleek blue object, before sitting by his head on the floor. He waved his own space phone around, catching Keith’s attention so he could see the open messaging app with his name and pre-existing dialogue posted on the screen. He must’ve gotten the gist of what Lance was trying to tell him, as he opened up his own messaging app. Lance turned his attention to his own phone.

_L: hey Mullet._

_L: nice outfit :3_

From his seated position, mere inches from Keith’s face, Lance was able to see the instant Keith realised what he was talking about. The grump looked through the glass and flipped him the bird, furiously texting despite his undoubtedly hazy vision.

_K: Fuck off, Lance_

_L: Hey, man, I’m not judging._

_L: it really shows off your figure ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_

_K: ( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)_

The fact that Keith was using the _lenny_ function Lance begged Pidge to install in all their phones tipped off he wasn’t too beat up about the teasing. Something about that helped ease the knot that was growing in his stomach, letting Lance truly relax for the first time in a while; or at least since Keith left Voltron. He leaned his weight fully onto the incubator, forehead touching the glass where Keith held his phone. He decided to focus on the here and now, not on the semantics that led to _here_ ; sometimes his head could be his own worst enemy. In thinking that, Lance’s gaze was drawn by a new message popping up on his phone.

_K: stop thinking._

Lance blinked, then looked up at Keith, who was looking at him with half-lidded eyes. He looked exhausted, but not in any way ready to go to sleep yet. As if sensing his confusion, Keith typed something into his phone. Lance’s phone alerted him to another message.

_K: you’re bad at it._

Lance snorted.

_L: pot calling the kettle black, Kogane?_

_K: at least I can think._

Lance scoffed at that but couldn’t help the brief but sharp cut of pain that went through his chest. His smile grew strained but the change was so minute it didn’t look like anything had changed. Or so he thought.

_K: stop it_

_L: stop what?_

_K: stop looking like a kicked puppy, Lance._

_L: I hope I’m an adorable puppy. Those face masks are supposed to work, dammit._

_K: u don’t need them u look fine ( ͡° ʖ̯ ͡°)_

And that – that right there – made Lance stop and blink. He swivelled his head to look at Keith – _really_ look at him – and met blue sandstone, intense even in their tired gaze. Lance admitted to himself that it was like looking into a black hole; once he got in, it was impossible to pull away. In those eyes, he saw a raw kind of earnest normally reserved for the intimacies of dark-lit corridors and private training sessions. The kind that only revealed itself when it was sure there wasn’t anyone around to hurt it. Lance gulped down the lump that had formed in the back of his throat and met that tentative expression with one of his own.

He meant what he said; about considering Keith his leader. That never changed, even after Shiro came back. Even after he took over the Black Lion. Lance had already made up his mind. 

With another lump forming, choking whatever words he could’ve said out loud, Lance looked back down at his phone.

_L: Thanks, Keith_

_K: anytime._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really feel I needed this little snippet. It's no doubt shorter than most of the other chapters, and it doesn't have half the jokes I wanted to add into this story overall, but it's getting there. 
> 
> That ending was also a little something I threw in there to help myself feel better. I like how Keith felt bad about being the reason Lance was upset so he put in the little lenny face as well as the awkward compliment. He's an earnest character, through and through. I feel like I need to go into that more in later chapters, or in the lotor x keith fic (WE ALL KNOW i'M GONNA WRITE IT. THAT NOTE IS STILL AT THE TOP OF THE WORD DOCUMENT).
> 
> I also don't feel as though this indicates a romantic Klance basis. This friendship is pretty deep, and I wanted to show that. It's gonna be a main point in this fic (other than the fact that Keith's contracted a space cold -- and, no, (ironically) not making shit up. The conditions in the mission Keith went on, the stuff shown in chapter 1, is all that's needed for a character to get sick. Pidge or Matt will probably say something about it later on. I'll see what happens on that front).
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this sweet little installment. Gonna write more after a nap. Stayed up all night trying to piece this one together. I hope you all have a lovely day. <3


	8. Sugar, Oh Honey, Honey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a discord so we can discuss stuff like Voltron and this fic and stuff. Hope someone joins. 
> 
> https://discord.gg/awxVjkh

“You relieved a druid of their head.”

Kolivan’s voice spoke through the space phone’s speaker, right into Keith’s ear from where he’d placed it next to his head. He met his leader’s stoic expression through the glass with sheepish eyes, feeling like he’d been caught stealing from Hunk’s favourite cookie jar. Kolivan was clearly waiting for an answer. Keith glanced to the side, where Lance was holding up his phone for them to speak through. Apparently the glass was too thick to hear anything below a shrill scream, which Keith really wasn’t in the mood for. He was grateful for the alternative. 

Tearing his eyes from the Cuban paladin, Keith made sure to school his features. As a safety measure, he looked directly up at the massive hand that rest atop the glass near his head instead of the Galra who owned it. He’d mentally gone over what happened in those final moments of the mission countless times but there really was no safe way to admit –

“They fell.”

“Fell.”

 _Yes, Kolivan, they fell_ , he felt like saying in the most sardonic tone possible. Still, his cheeks felt warm in the cool incubator as he risked a glance at a slowly grinning Lance. He almost regretted asking him to stay. Keith shoved his mortification to the side. It was too late; Lance knew what he was going to say.

“Right into my blade.” He focussed on not gritting his teeth as he said it. He knew he failed. 

Silence met his response. Lance was clearly trying not to laugh but faintly choked chuckles sneaked their way through the speakers. Kolivan was a mask of cool indifference, the only crack being the resounding silence that indicated he was processing what was said. Eventually, he seemed to settle on a response, but even that was hesitant at best.

“… I see.”

“Repeatedly?” Lance seemed to have cracked under his vow to silence as they discussed the mission report. It took Keith a tick to figure out what he meant; one he did, he put Lance on his hitlist.

“Fuck off, Lance.” Was his default answer in lieu of throwing his knife, which he wasn’t sure where it was. It would’ve caused him anxiety if he was in a more active frame of mind. His only solace was that Kolivan didn’t know what the word ‘ _fuck_ ’ meant. As long as Lance didn’t tell him—

… 

He hoped he hadn’t just jinxed it. 

Lance actually looked like he was going to tell Kolivan. Thankfully – and, yes, Keith _did_ thank whoever was listening up in the debatable existence of Heaven – Pidge and Matt walked in through the entranceway for the medical unit, Hunk in tow. 

“Oh good, Keith. You’re up.” Pidge said. Her voice was faint through his space phone’s speakers, as if she was further than she really was. He flashed her a thumbs-up. 

“Keith! Oh, man. It’s so good to see you awake, man. Gave us a scare with your fever. I have food for whenever you’re good to come out of that thing!” Hunk gushed. His voice got clearer as he rambled, matching his steps toward his altered cryopod. He didn’t come too close to Kolivan, though, preferring to stay by Lance’s side across from him. Keith tapped the glass directly under Kolivan’s hand, watching as the frost gathered there chipped off and floated down instead of outright melting.

“What _is_ this thing?” He heard himself mutter. 

“That, dear Keith,” Matt’s boisterous voice through the speakers startled Keith into paying attention to those around him. Matt stood at Kolivan’s arm and sent him an encouraging smile. “-would be an incubator. Designed with artificial humidity and temperature functions for all your climatic needs. But wait; that’s not all!” His jovial demeanour earned him a raised eyebrow from Kolivan and hushed chuckles from Hunk and Lance. To keep up the momentum, Matt brought a chart from somewhere below Keith’s line of sight, flipping to the right page. “Get one now, and we’ll throw in an added upgrade of pre-installed genetic analysis and timing cycle functions. All yours for three simple, easy payments. Call now!”

“You’re such a dork,” snorted Pidge from her spot by Keith’s feet. She seemed to be looking down at a glowing tablet and messing around with some dials visible from his position. Matt made an affronted sound. There was some more banter, but Keith droned it out. He’d been up for a while, and while his stomach wasn’t begging him to eat something, he was tired. It wasn’t the usual tired he got from staying up too late or training too long. It was bone-deep; aching where there should be no aches, dragging him down into the padding beneath him. 

In his half-dazed state, he mutely sighed; the cool air was nice against his too-warm skin. The heat wasn’t as bad as before. He remembered feeling as if he were on fire. Now, it was no more than an ember in comparison. He let his eyelids flutter shut, giving in to the need for rest. He didn’t fall asleep, but at least now the light from beyond the glass wasn’t as bright to him. For a time – it could’ve been seconds, ticks, minutes, doboshes, hours, varga or even a whole quintant, for all Keith knew – all he heard was the steady hum of the machine cocooning him in a surprisingly pleasant chill. It was refreshing. 

“So, uh – hey, Keith? You up?” Sharp tapping against glass accommodated Pidge’s question. Keith opened his eyes and gave her a thumbs-up to tell her he was listening. He struggled to fight the sluggish haze drowning his mind but the gentle artificial breeze helped. At the very least, he kept his left ear pricked for whatever dialogue the others voiced out. He couldn’t focus his mind enough to tell exactly who was in the room with him but he knew all of them were friends or at least allies. 

“Okay! So, good news: fever is now low enough for us to increase the humidity a little. We’ll have to make it warmer, though. Not too much but…” Pidge’s words blended in here. He could hear every syllable clear as day, felt that he knew what they meant, but they didn’t process the way they should. 

Keith idly rubbed his fingers against his bone-dry bedsheet; it’d been dry for a while now. He didn’t remember when it was wet, but he knew it had to have been at some point. He blinked. More tapping. He turned his head to where it came from. That was Lance.

“Hey, Mullet. You doing okay?”

Keith felt his mouth form a small frown; had to blink his eyes against the too-bright lights. It took him a few ticks to understand the words for what they were. 

“I – yeah. I’m fine.” The words were rote. It was clear to everyone outside the pod, Keith saw. Still, he stood by what he said. “Guys, I’m fine. Really. When can I get out of here?” He rasped. His throat was a little sore from not drinking anything in a while and his stomach felt like a bottomless cavity. His head felt light and stuffed at the same time and there were pins and needles crawling across his limbs under his bedsheet. There was the feeling of nausea but it was mild enough for him to ignore. 

“Uh, this is bad.” He heard Pidge say. He looked down in time to see her push her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Readings indicate mild hypoglycaemia. Hunk? Please tell me you made cake?” She didn’t sound panicked; her tone was even, suitable for hostage situations. Something told Keith he should be worried she was using it here. 

“Um, no. But I baked some sweet-berry tarts. That’ll help, right?” Hunk looked almost nervous from this angle. Pidge’s affirmation helped ease the shifting that was blurring Hunk’s outline in parts of the frost. Keith blinked; one moment Hunk was there, the next, he was gone. 

“What is hypoglycaemia?” He heard Kolivan ask.

“Low blood sugar. Keith needs to eat something, preferably with high contents of sugar. His body needs nutrients to get better and I don’t think he’s had a chance to eat once since getting here.” Matt explained, moving to an area just above Keith’s line of sight. He let out a puff of air, closing his eyes against the ever-brightening lights. He heard tapping.

“Keith? I need you _not_ to fall asleep. Just this once.” Pidge said. Her voice sounded like it was underwater. 

“’M not asleep,” He said, voice barely above a whisper. Even that was difficult to say. 

“Well just to make sure, can you open your eyes?”

“Can’t. Tired.” He gave in to a sudden urge to cough. It was a dry thing; doing more irritation than helping to breathe easier. 

“Crap.” She muttered, but it was loud enough for the speakers to pick up.

“Language.” He admonished, cracking an eye open in time to see her blink and give him a sour look.

“Whatever, old man. I’ve raised the humidity. That should help you out.” Her voice was filled with wry amusement. It brought some level of comfort to the disorienting mix of emotions and thoughts and sensations running through his head, unable to be fully processed. The air felt a little heavier than what he thought he remembered but he wasn’t sure; thinking was getting harder.

“I brought the tarts!” Hunk’s voice was distant; a mere whisper in the void encroaching upon him. There was a drop in the pressure around him, suctioned out of an opening by his head which was closed just as fast as it had opened. He looked to the side. Beside his phone was a small tart topped with various glazed berries he didn’t recognise. Beside it was a small drinking pouch filled with a bright orange liquid.

“That’s some of the juice that was left over from the tarts. It’s super sugary.” Hunk said over the warped buzzing that was filling Keith’s ears. He reached out a hand and grasped the tart first, needing several small bites to eat what would usually only take him two. The juice was finished in similar fashion, the only difference being the pouch being taken once it was made clear he was done. After a couple doboshes, Keith felt the worst of the confusion and nausea dissipate, leaving only a dry mouth and pins and needles crawling across his limbs. That was fine; he was just glad he could think again. 

“Thanks.” He said. His gratitude was met with a minor cacophony of ‘your welcome’s in different forms. He didn’t bother trying to prise out which voices belonged to whom. Just knowing that he was surrounded by people who wouldn’t use his weakness against him later on was enough. The little food he’d ingested reminded his stomach that it did, in fact, have a bottom; now he just had to fill it. From the sounds of it, Hunk had made quite a bit. 

Before he could ask, Matt’s disembodied voice spoke up through the speakers.

“Hey, Keith. We’re gonna have to go over a few things in your medical file. Some of the details don’t make much sense.”

Suddenly, he didn’t feel as hungry anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES! WE'RE BACK INTO THE PLOT!
> 
> As much as I like keepin' it pure fluff with no progress, it's good to be back to the thick of things. Like, granted, every interaction has been necessary for the story to progress, but this is a huge chapter in terms of set-up and execution. I had heaps of fun with this one. Turns out writing Keith is just as much fun as writing Lance. Who'd-a-thunk? 
> 
> Also, does anybody know how freeing it is to not need too many italics? Ugh I wish I wrote like this more often. 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading. I hope y'all have a lovely day. <3


	9. Sometimes Speaking Out Is Harder Than Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: This chapter may have some disturbing content nearing the end. It is part of a side-plot I'm thinking of doing, but if it's too much, I'll scrap the whole idea and leave it as a brief mentions in this chapter alone. I personally didn't feel comfortable writing it and, while it had that sense of dread I was aiming for, I don't really wanna go into it if it's just gonna be a bad time for everyone. It was mostly supposed to help Keith heal from some of this childhood hurts that didn't involve abandonment and such (because it's only one aspect to the guy. He's more than someone who avoids attachment). 
> 
> So, uh, yeah. Triggering content near the end of this chapter. Ye be warned.

_“Hey, Keith. We’re gonna have to go over a few things in your medical file. Some of the details don’t make much sense.”_

Kolivan noticed the instant something was remiss.

He did not feel concern over the open share of medical information; Blades were all trained in field medicine and were required to know their comrades’ physiologies for instances where there was time to treat injuries on the battlefield. Keith was often open about his general wellbeing, simply out of respect of the organisation’s customs, in which he would not be sent on a mission unless it was known he would have a chance to complete it. 

“… which details?”

Keith’s hesitation brought Kolivan pause. There was an almost vulnerable layer to the question; one Kolivan was not familiar with. Through the phone’s speakers, his voice seemed strained, as if he were weathering extreme interrogation. It was oddly placed in this room full of allies and friends. Disjointed from the care that had been shown thus far.

“It’s about your time in the Pierre Foster Centre,” Matt spoke, voice slow and grave, as if he did not like what came from his mouth; face drawn, as if in mourning. 

“Is it necessary?” Keith evaded. The words were spoken too quick. If Kolivan were the interrogator, he’d be hard pressed to strike now, when the one being interrogated was exposed as he was. It was something he had to quell; if only to stop from escalating the situation. 

“It’s a possible point of stress. Considering what Kolivan told me about you waking up from a nightmare and landing you here, I’d say ‘yeah, it’s necessary’.” Matt’s words weren’t spoken with malice, and they were not unkind. It was a silent plea for strength, Kolivan noted.

Keith said nothing.

“Look, I’m sorry, Keith. Dad’s notes don’t cover everything. We need to take psychological health as a factor when dealing with your recovery. Otherwise you could relapse and end up in even worse shape.” Matt leaned over the glass by Keith’s head, across the incubator from Kolivan. A glance down showed the youngling’s descent into defeat; lifeless eyes closing in surrender. An audible sigh was heard from the speakers.

“… what do you want to know?”

“Preferably? Everything. But for now, just a brief recount on what you remember of your time there. Dad already put down that Human adults are a trigger for extreme stress when alone in a room with them. It was why we had Kolivan appointed as your main carer.” 

At that, the youngest Blade snapped his eyes open, meeting Kolivan’s calm with alarmed askance. He didn’t remove his hand from the glass, directly atop Keith’s head. He simply nodded, meeting youthful eyes – so much like Krolia’s, it was like she were here with him – and resounded a strong, steady presence. At the sight of his leader’s nod, the youngling deflated against the incubator’s lining. 

“Why don’t we just stick him in a cryopod and call it a day?” The red paladin’s voice shattered the heavy silence that had settled over the room as all present awaited Keith’s answer. His fellow humans all turned to look fully at the one holding the phone while Kolivan studied him from a corner of his eye; most of his attention remaining on the youngling who’d jerked at the question. Surprise emitted from his countenance, open and revealing as any human’s despite Kolivan’s training. 

“I’m just saying; Keith obviously doesn’t want to answer. Wouldn’t it be easier to put him in a pod and—” Here, the human snapped his fingers, “-boom. All better?”

The green paladin pushed her glasses up along her nose. She seemed intent on saying something but seemed hesitant on how to phrase it.

“Matt and I already asked Allura,” She finally said.

“ _Aaaand_?” The red paladin urged. The small human tilted her head forward. Kolivan likened it to an emotion the youngling had described as guilt, as was explained some time during his training. 

“She said Alteans don’t suffer ailments from bacteria and viruses,” She started, voice thick with emotion, “—as such, the cryopods were only ever used for physical remedies; broken bones, tissue – to rebuild the body and preserve it.” Here she took a breath, as if her words were damning. “If we put Keith in there as he is now, he wouldn’t be cured. His cold would likely get worse. The incubator was a workaround for this issue, directly dealing with the problems as they presented themselves.”

“I’m sensing a ‘ _but_ ’ in there, somewhere.” The red paladin quipped. 

“It’s not an end-all-be-all. Obviously, he’s gotta come out of there some time to bathe and eat.” The green paladin nodded. “Stress also makes illnesses worse than what they should be. Like I said; a workaround.” 

“You can’t just treat him like he’s a computer, Pidge.” He fired. Kolivan was caught off-guard by the level of emotion that emitted from the usually carefree paladin, as well as the glare he’d sent the small female, who looked equally as shocked.

“I’m not—” She tried to say.

“Yes, you are. You can’t just go asking about the Pierre fiasco just because it might have some affect on him.” Kolivan watched as the dark-skinned human seemed to move his body closer to the incubator; toward the youngling. “You didn’t even check if that was the source of the stress. He could’ve been dreaming about _marbles_ , for all we know.”

“ _Marbles_.” The female’s tone was that of scepticism. 

“Yeah. _Marbles_. ‘Cause, I don’t know about you, but you seemed to’ve _lost_ yours.” 

“Lance—” Her exasperation was short-lived. Under Kolivan’s vigilant gaze, Keith stirred. 

“Lance is right.” He finally said, voice stronger than what it had been, capable of diffusing the situation before it could get out of hand. Everyone sans Kolivan snapped to attention; he merely tilted his head and looked down. “I’m honestly not in the mood to talk about what happened there. If it happens to interfere with my ability to go on missions, I’ll tell Kolivan and he’ll decide what happens. I can’t—” His breath hitched, audible even through the speakers. “I can’t do this, right now.”

The green paladin looked as though she wanted to argue, but when she glanced down, she bit her lip. The monitor at her fingertips reflected off of her glasses. From his position, Kolivan noticed that some of the readings had begun to flash red. She nodded. “Alright. I guess that makes sense.” She didn’t seem convinced. Kolivan chose this as a good time to intervene.

“If that is all, perhaps rest is in order.” He said, knowing full well none of the paladins in the room had reached maturity, and that the green paladin’s brother was young, even by Human standards. Nobody seemed particularly interested in refuting this statement. They trickled out of the room until it was just Kolivan, the weakened youngling, and the red paladin who held his phone out as he had during the discussion. Kolivan was about to insist on his departure when he spoke up.

“You okay, Mullet?” His voice was gentle enough to stop Kolivan from voicing his prior thoughts. He stayed still, willing to let this play out as it will. 

“I’m fine, Lance. Thanks.” Kolivan could not help but note how the discussion had seemed to sap whatever strength the youngling had regained in the short time of rest he’d had between entering the incubator and now. Still, the youngling seemed adamant about putting on a strong front for his friend. 

“Alright. I’ll leave my phone with Kolivan, so you can stay in the call. I’ll be back later.” The red paladin promised, enticing a slight upward curl to stretch at Keith’s lips.

“I’ll hold you to that. ‘Night, Lance.”

“G’night, Keith.” 

The human did as he’d said, handing his active phone to Kolivan who took hold of it with careful hands, before walking toward the medical unit’s entrance. Before long, he was gone. The silence didn’t last long.

“You’re curious.” Keith said. It was not a question; not one Kolivan was expected to answer, at any rate. Still, he humoured the youngling.

“You seemed distressed by the Holt siblings’ questions.” His statement was equally an observation as it was an invitation to speak. Keith noticed it too, if the huff of amusement was any indication.

“Galra really are the best at understatements.”

Kolivan said nothing. He watched as Keith sighed, closing undoubtedly tired eyes.

“… the Galran Empire…” The youngling began. “They’re really not the worst out there.” His words earned him a raised eyebrow from his leader, not that he could see it. He seemed to sense it, all the same. “They’re really not. The Galra are pragmatists. All of them. Even you. Even me. They don’t—” He opened his eyes, looking into Kolivan’s as if searching for the words he wished to convey. “They don’t use _kindness_ as a means of torture. We don’t know _how_.”

It was telling how this matter affected the youngling, when he included himself as one of their kind. It was not often such a reaction was warranted, even if he was a Blade. As it was, Keith’s voice was tired, desperate in a way Kolivan hadn’t heard from one of his Blades since Lotor first took an interest in them, all those centuries ago. It was before the Blade of Marmora had agreed to stop housing kits and younglings on-base, but rather planet-side in various systems. It was before Lotor had marked his first strike against the rebellion. 

“You’ve experienced this.” Kolivan said, voice soft and on the border of rumbling, if only to ease the pain that creased the young one’s brow. He nodded.

“That’s what they were asking about; the Pierre Foster Centre. I was one of the survivors.” His voice was a mere whisper. “Compared to all I’ve seen the Empire do… compared to that…”

The desperation painted on Keith’s face gave way to lost despair. His head lolled to the side, breaking eye-contact. It didn’t make it difficult to read what was expressed through words. Through tone. Through sheer lack of ability to hold his head up.

“It was _hell_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually felt like throwing up while writing this. Like, I have a habit of putting myself in the character's shoes, even if they're not technically the character I'm writing from, and Keith -- oh boy Keith. The sheer disgust and shame and self-hatred I feel from this cinnamon roll is enough to make me wanna barf the pizza scrolls I made at 2am (it's, like 4:15am now. I'm cold). 
> 
> Debating whether I should go into the what happened with the Pierre fiasco next chapter or break it up with a bit of fluff for my own sanity. Guess we'll all find out tomorrow. 
> 
> God, I love Lance. But he uses too many italics. _Uuuuuugh_. He's top tier endgame, tho. Gotta respecc the endgame.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading. I hope y'all have a lovely day! <3


	10. To Fite Momma Kitty Or Not To Fite Momma Kitty

_Red lion, yellow lion, green lion, black lion, blue lion._

_…_

_Yellow lion, green lion, black lion, blue lion, red lion._

_…_

_Green lion, black lion, blue lion, red lion, yellow lion._

_…_

_Uuunnnghhhhh…_

Lance couldn’t sleep. It’s been, like, two vargas, already. Two vargas of lying in different positions, stretching his legs, looking at memes—

Wait, that’s _right_ …

He’d left his phone with Kolivan.

_**Uuuuuuunnnghhhhh…** _

Keith _so_ better love him for this. I mean, yeah; Lance had his face mask and there was this plant Hunk found that resembled a cucumber, so he had space cucumber slices over his sparkling blue eyes. Still, no amount of skin care in the whole universe, Zarkon-free or not, could wipe away the effects of a restless sleep. 

That still left him with the problem of _why_ he was still up in the first place.

_Ugh._

He hadn’t known about the Pierre fiasco. 

Okay, sure, he knew it _happened_ – who _wouldn’t_? It was all over the national news! – but… he hadn’t known _Keith_ had been involved, like, _at all_. 

He didn’t regret stopping Pidge and Matt from going down their line of questioning; he felt bad enough as it is that he made fun of Keith for not being normal at the Garrison. All the rumours and the jealousy and petty ribbing he’d throw his way… learning the circumstances _behind_ it was… 

_God_ , Lance felt like such a _jerk_. 

He sighed, knowing full-well he wasn’t going to get any sleep if he stayed here, in this room, on this base. Lance swung his legs over the side of his sleeping bay, which had turned into a small nest of blankets now that he’d rolled around like a barrel full of space monkeys. 

Okay, so he knew he didn’t have to keep adding ‘ _space_ ’ to everything that didn’t come from Earth. Was he going to stop?

Aw, _hell_ no. 

Heaving a groan usually reserved for when he was tasked with cleaning out the storage rooms in the castle, Lance propped himself up on his elbows, then propelled himself to his feet. He took a staggering step forward before turning on his heel, ripping the space cucumber slices from his eyes – which he ate like an absolute _boss_ – and then gazed down at his messed up sheets. He grumbled.

“Stupid Keith and him making me feel bad. Now I really feel bad because he’s not stupid, I’m just mad. Ugh. I can’t believe this is happening. This is so stupid.” 

Lance folded a single blanket to take with him on his journey to see Red. Maybe she’d be able to block out all this stuff he didn’t feel like dealing with right now. 

He felt sick. 

He felt guilty. 

He felt an inane urge to go check up on Keith, even with _momma cat_ on the prowl. Even if it meant he ended up with a knife in the chest and a literal lion full of regrets, he just wanted to make sure Mullet-for-Brains was safe. 

He determinedly carried the blanket with him in case he felt like going to sleep mid-visit for either hothead. Before exiting his guest room, Lance made short work of washing away his glorious face mask in a basin near the doorway. Once satisfied with his perfect face and even better smile – he flashed a smile at himself in the mirror there. Oh _yeah_. He was lookin’ _good_ – Lance turned to his door, making his way into the hall. 

It was empty.

A sly smirk made its way onto his face. _Perfect_. He could show Keith he could be sneaky. _Pshh_. He was _awesome_ at stealth. Just _watch_ him—

Promptly shriek into the fabric of someone’s giant yellow pyjama shirt. 

Lance cut himself off, covering his mouth with both of his hands and trying to salvage what was left of his shattered ego lying right there, on the floor in shards of broken dreams. Embarrassment took the form of flushed cheeks as he recognised the shirt as Hunk’s. 

At least it wasn’t Kolivan. 

Lance took some measure of comfort in that.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Hunk asked, completely ignoring the ear-piercing sounds that could come from Lance’s mouth; accepting them as a fact of life, even. It took a moment for Lance to process what was said, but when he did he shook his head, removing his hands from his mouth with a heavy sigh.

“No. I kept thinking what happened in the Med unit.” He said sullenly. His heart still pounded heavily in his chest but it served as a good way to work out some of the anxious jitters that had come to make a home in his body since arguing with Pidge. Hunk pat his shoulder. 

“I figured. You wanna come hang in my room for a while?” From the way Hunk said that, Lance knew his friend had something planned. His sly smirk returned.

“ _Oh, ho-ho!_ Do I smell a distraction coming along?” he inquired, tone suggestive. As predicted, Hunk snorted, lightly nudging Lance’s shoulder as he waved away the comment.

“Hey, man. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Then, pray tell, what did you have in mind?” 

Hunk braced an arm around Lance’s shoulders and turned him in the direction of where Lance assumed Hunk’s room to be. It was only a few doors down from his own. Just like in the castle. 

“I figured Kolivan wouldn’t take it too well if any of us came before our sleep cycles were technically over. Keith looked pretty wiped back there.” Lance tried not to wince. If Hunk noticed, he didn’t say anything. The gentle giant continued, even as they neared a hand-made space laptop resting in the sleeping bay. “So, I hooked up the camera feed of the medical unit directly into my laptop. Neat right?”

Lance dived into Hunk’s sleeping bay, leaving more than enough room for the larger boy to squeeze in next to him. Together they looked at the visual feed being fed directly into the laptop. Lance whistled appreciatively. 

“Hunk, my man; you are _awesome_.” He said. 

“Awe shucks, dude.”

It was then that Lance was glad he’d brought his blanket. He covered both him and Hunk with it while balancing the laptop in one hand, placing it back down on his lap when he was done. Together, they watched as Kolivan kept a silent, steady vigil over their favourite space ninja; golden eyes gleaming directly into the camera as if he knew they were watching. It was kinda creepy but Lance felt more at ease than anything. With Kolivan there, he knew Keith was at least safe. 

That’s all that mattered, he guessed. 

After a few doboshes of watching the monotonous live feed, Lance yawned, feeling the two vargas spent worrying about Keith beginning to dog at his heels. He leaned into Hunk, relishing the arm that was thrown around him and pulling him in to rest his head against Hunk’s broad chest. It really reminded him of their time in the Garrison; when Lance would feel immense bouts of homesickness and nervous energy that wouldn’t settle down and Hunk was always just _there_ with hugs and comfort food to chase it all away. 

Of everything that could have changed, he was glad this wasn’t one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed this. It's, in all sense of the word, light and fluffy. I need this before I go into Pidge and Matt's side of the fallout. Y'all get an early chapter today because I stayed up till 10am screaming at myself for putting best bb Keith in that situation. You're welcome.
> 
> Also, Lance bb be killing me with the italics. God, I love writing him so much. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading. Have a lovely day.


	11. At Least She's Trying

“Matt…” Pidge closed her eyes against the harsh light of the hanger. She leaned her weight on the green lion’s front paw. Instantly, her brother was by her side, silently asking what was wrong. Green’s presence in her mind tried to assure her; saying mistakes were what helped people grow and learn. She leaned into her brother’s embrace and let her lion brush her mind. The weight of her actions this past evening seemed to be catching up to her, if she was willing to let herself be coddled this much.

“I don’t think we made the right call,” Her brother said, taking the words right from her mouth. Pidge’s gaze dropped down to the slightly cluttered floor in an effort to organise her thoughts. She let herself stew in her emotions for a tick, trying to rationally analyse where she went wrong and why it made her feel like she was going to throw up and have a heart attack at the same time. 

It didn’t work.

Katie felt just as bad as she did before, if not worse, now that she’d noticed it was her emotions causing her this pain.

“I just wanted to make him better,” She mumbled into the fabric of her brother’s cloak. She let his arms hide her from the universe as she tried and failed to reconcile what happened in the medical unit. She knew what she did wrong; she asked Keith, her _friend_ , to spill his guts so they could treat him like a lab rat instead of a person. 

“I know…”

It was times like these, where her instinct to poke and prod and cut and splice, made it hard for her to remember that humans and aliens weren’t machines. Lance was right; her habit of forgetting that titbit was almost enough to make Keith’s fever relapse, even in the chilled state of the incubator. It had gotten so _high_ – _a hundred and thirteen degrees Fahrenheit_ – that it was a miracle his body hadn’t gone into cardiac arrest. Pidge had had to watch in those first few vargas of Keith entering the incubator; had to watch as his body writhed with tremors, borderlining seizures. His heartrate had spiked so many times, she’d worried he was gonna flatline any minute. 

She still remembered when Kolivan had told her what led up to the decline in Keith’s condition. What he described – a _nightmare_ , most likely – she’d instantly jumped to the worst case scenario. 

She was now realising that maybe Lance really had a point. 

She should’ve just _asked_ what it was about. 

But now that left this strange feeling coiling around in her gut with a name. _Guilt_. 

“He nearly died, Matt.” She said, voice a mere whisper. 

“I know.”

Tears welled at the corners of her eyes when she remembered those first few scans; how most of Keith’s body was being attacked from the inside. He’d come close to death from various organ failures within the first varga of being on this base, with the paltry care of his mission team being the only thing stopping it. Pidge didn’t begrudge them; all of them had thought they were going to die and were probably just comforting Keith in what they thought were his final moments. 

“The fever isn’t killing of the bacteria. It just feeds it.” She realised, also remembering those first few scans they’d done as soon as they’d come with the broken-down cryopod to calibrate it into a viable incubator. Matt didn’t respond; he just held her tighter.

It was a miracle that Kolivan had contacted them as soon as the mission had ended, when it was first apparent that something was wrong. Otherwise Keith…

_Keith would be—_

“I think,” Her brother’s voice broke her from her declining thoughts enough to listen, “-that, first, we need to apologise. Make things right. _Then_ , we look at this from a different angle.” To prove a point, he released her from his bear hug. 

Pidge let out a puff of air. She was willing to do anything, at this point. 

Even apologise.

Lord knew she needed to.

“Solid plan. When do we start?” 

“Whenever you say, Paladin Pidge.” That earned a shocked snort from her small frame. “I am your _humble_ assistant.” Another snort.

“You’re the complete _opposite_ of humble.” They separated. “Where do we even _start_?”

“Well, we could start off easy.” Matt suggested.

“That’s vague.”

“Come _on_ , Katie! _Think_. What can _we_ do,” Here, he gestured between them, “-that will help to appease the _one_ , the _only_ , Keith Kogane?” He said Keith’s name in an awestruck whisper, like back when he was still at the Garrison and they were staying up late in a skype call. Matt claimed he’d never say his name like that in public, though. Pidge didn’t believe a word of it.

Still didn’t. Matt was such a _dork_. 

A dork who loved Star Wars with a burning passion and always wished he could have his very own R2-D2…

_No way…_

There was a pause. Then, as one, their eyes lit up.

“ _Robot!_ ”

_Matt, you’re a dorky, loveable genius._

“I-I mean, Lance was right. I get computers than I could ever get people.” She admitted. Matt ruffled her hair. 

“Yeah? And, the best part is it’s a _robot_. How cool is that!?” His enthusiasm was about as infectious as Keith’s cold no doubt was. 

Still, a nugget of doubt gnawed at her.

…

“You think Keith will like it?”

Matt put a hand on her shoulder. The look he gave her was a shadow of the one their dad always reserved for them, when they were having a rough day. 

“We won’t know unless we try.”

Katie banished her tears before they had a chance to painfully prick at her eyes. There was an uplifting note in her brother’s words which hit her right in what Lance would call _the feels_. She could cry when they found dad. Matt’s words only bolstered her to keep it together. She really needed that.

…

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pidge isn't evil. She's just got good intentions and sometimes those good intentions don't always have good consequences.
> 
> Also, Matt decidedly has more italics than Lance. I guess I shouldn't have complained so much. 
> 
> ALSO, I needed to have this robot built. I didn't know how else to bring it in. I need it for the chapter where Lance and Keith have more bonding. It just so happens that the story is capitalizing on Pidge's misery. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and sticking with me. I hope you all have a lovely day! <3


	12. The Stage Is Set

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a discord so we can discuss stuff like Voltron and this fic and stuff. Hope someone joins. 
> 
> https://discord.gg/awxVjkh

“Uh, duh. You could leave him with me?”

Kolivan was hard-pressed to acquiesce the red paladin’s proposal. His overall countenance was not one of maturity nor the ample care required for one to be capable of being near younglings. He had half a mind to simply send him off, as he had that first eve. However…

New information regarding the wayward Prince Lotor had seen the need for his attentions. Now he understood Keith’s stubbed temper when dealing with this being. It was almost on par with Slav. 

He was not a proud Galra. He knew when to admit his shortcomings. 

Still…

“Uh, hey, he’s totally thinking of skinning us, isn’t he?” The yellow paladin was helpful in surmising Kolivan’s countenance through the stoic mask. He sighed through his snout, remembering the mantra the youngling in question had always uttered when his training hadn’t progressed the way he’d liked.

_Patience yields focus._

Yes. It was focus that Kolivan had an abundance of. 

Patience, he did not. 

“Look, if it makes it _any_ better, I’m great at this.” The red paladin’s vouch did nothing for Kolivan’s confidence in the situation. The human’s hands held out in a pacifying move, as if to soothe a startled kit. Kolivan would’ve taken more offence to the notion had he not been informed of Human tendencies prior to the paladins stepping foot off of their planet. 

If what he remembered of Krolia’s reports were true, Humans were usually at their most expressive when in the company of friends and family. Perhaps his status as Keith’s caretaker has placed him in a position on par with one of these categories. He was not sure as to the correct placing, but in ancient Galra tradition – before Zarkon’s second reign, if memory served – only one of blood relation or an adoptive clan could care for a youngling or kit. He helped raise most of those still with the Blade, when it became apparent there were no more adoptive clans left to care for the discarded. 

The thought was sombre, indeed.

“Do you understand the severity of the responsibility you plan to undertake?” Kolivan responded. He let none of his dark thoughts bleed through his words but used them to allow himself to appear stern. Stoic indifference was useful in the battlefield; a stern countenance could tame many a youngling. It appeared to have similar effects on the Humans, nonetheless. 

“W-well, I _happen_ to be one of five siblings. We took care of each other whenever our parents were... b-busy…” The human's need to gulp when nervous was apparent, even as the smell of fear wafted from his body. Still, his tenacity was promising. It meant he wouldn’t give in to his own distress.

Perhaps he was a suitable caretaker in his stead…

Kolivan’s considering narrowed eyes must have appeared as an act of hostility; the paladins both seemed to shrink back somewhat. He knew for a fact that they’d never done this for Keith. With this in mind, the Galran rebel decided. 

“In that case, perhaps you are fit for the role.” He said, voice and outward features resuming their stoic expression. The paladins relaxed somewhat. Odd. 

“Awesome. I’ll go get my bag, then. It’s got all the stuff I’ll need to help Keith feel better.” With that, the red paladin made his exit, sending ‘ _finger-guns_ ’ – Keith’s words, not his – toward those who remained. To his credit, Kolivan did not bat an eye at the display. He has had enough time to become accustomed to the paladins of Voltron and their eccentricities. 

“Be sure to contact me if anything should occur.” He spoke to the yellow paladin, who yelped at the first syllable. Kolivan paid it no mind. He was fully aware that the paladin did not fear him for his heritage; he was merely intimidated by his size. It was something Kolivan knew would come to pass. 

“I-I, uh, s-sure! Yeah! That works! We’ll keep you in the loop.” The yellow paladin stammered. However, the sincerity was palpable. Kolivan nodded in appreciation.

He turned to the incubator, where Keith was still resting. Normally, the youngling would have been up long before now, having slept an entire five vargas to a full-blooded Galra’s two. He’d been sleeping for over nine vargas, now. When he’d consulted the red and yellow paladins, who’d graced the medical unit with their presence one varga before their average sleep cycles were to end – approximately eight vargas – they’d said that a human’s body sleeps to regain the strength to fight off their illnesses. Without the green paladin and her brother in the vicinity, he could only take their words as they were. 

That did not temper his concern for the youngling. 

With a heavy heart, he placed a hand atop the incubator, where he’d placed it all through the nigh cycle. He let it rest there for less than a dobosh, let his eyes roam across a flushed but placid face, then reclaimed his hand and turned toward the exit. He could not stay for long if he wished to partake in the mission. 

He’d be sure to return swiftly. Keith was valuable, as both a Blade and a former paladin. Should anything happen to the other paladins – either red or black – he would at least be able to fill in for them. It would be prudent to keep him alive, now that it was confirmed the illness would not devastate the entire organisation.

Kolivan let these logical reasons mask the paternal concern that flared with each pace that distanced him from Krolia’s kit. There was a chasm of empty void that filled the space between his duty and his instinct which was difficult to shake. It was with practiced control that he categorised each of his emotional turmoils, then filed them away to be viewed at a later time. He could not afford to let personal feelings obstruct the Blade of Marmora’s goals.

It was best to simply focus on the mission. Keith would be here when he returned.

Kolivan banished any thought that hailed otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was going to add Pidge's part (or Matt's, but I can't get a good grip on his character so maybe just Pidge) in this chapter after Kolivan, but I have to finish my assignment in a couple of hours so I cut my losses. Pidge will be in the next chapter, though, in The Stage Is Set - Part 2. I need this stage set lmao. Otherwise I won't be able to get to the parts I _really_ wanna get to. 
> 
> I didn't expect this fic to go quite so long. In the time It's taken me to get here, my cold came back (it went away a few chapters ago but it's back so that doesn't really matter), and today, on the 12th of May, it's my birthday. Kinda sucks how I gotta do this assignment. At least I'll have fun once it's done, though.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope y'all are having a great day. <3


	13. Cosmic Phantoms

The cosmos stretched beyond a blurred skyline. 

Keith let out a puff of air. It stirred nothing. 

“What are you doing back here?” That incredulous voice had him closing his eyes, savouring the underlying warmth that coated each word. At once, he turned away from the ledge and let his eyes take in the lions of Voltron forming a semicircle around them. Their eyes glowed in the perpetual darkness, feeding cool light that soothed the unnatural heat coating his skin like a slick slime. Keith let his line of sight be drawn by a seemingly familiar companion in this dream world.

“I should be asking you that, Shiro.” He playfully deflected. His tone was soft, just like the gaze being aimed at him. 

“I asked first,” Shiro chuckled, more than used to their brand of banter.

“My dream.”

“Black lion’s mindscape.”

“What?” Keith’s eyes widened. He looked up to the looming dark figure in the twilight illuminated by nothing but its own eyes. 

“You’re the black paladin, Keith. You can traverse here when your bond with the black lion is strong enough.” Shiro explained; Keith could tell he was leaving a lot of information out. Keith shook his head, eyes looking back down in time to get captured by Shiro’s honest gaze. He glared pleadingly.

“There’s got to be some mistake.” He tried. His voice cracked on the last syllable; the circumstances around his _promotion_ to becoming Voltron’s leader still didn’t sit with him. “I’m not the black paladin. I’m with the Blade of Marmora.”

“If you’re not the black paladin, then who’s piloting the black lion?” Shiro’s brow crinkled in confusion, tone equally befuddled. 

“ _You_ are!” Keith’s voice echoed in the darkness. He breathed heavily as the disquiet creeped up his spine.

All was still.

All was—

“No, Keith. I’m not.” 

A sharp pain stabbed into Keith’s chest. When he looked down, nothing was there, just an echo of the pain he’d felt when he’d first gone into the black lion; after that last battle with Zarkon. 

“So then—” Keith’s voice caught, “-who’s piloting black?”

“I thought _you_ were.” Shiro’s grave tone had him flick his gaze upward. Shiro looked every bit as uneasy as Keith felt. Keith shook his head furiously enough to leave the scenery around him spin. He tried to think but could only hear the faint rumble of a familiar purr.

It was the lions. They’d all stood from their crouched positions; eyes now beaming down on the two men in the centre of their half-ring. Something calmed in him. 

He struggled to think around the feelings of security that pervaded his thoughts. 

“I… I left.” He admitted, the truth flying heavily out of his mouth. 

“Left? You mean you’re not leading Voltron?” Shiro’s brow crinkled in dawned realisation. “ _So who’s piloting the black lion?_ ” 

“You are!” Keith choked around the blanket of safety that was trying to sooth him; now wasn’t the time. “We found you on an arctic planet. I wasn’t doing what was best for the team, so you took over. I-I’m sorry, Shiro. You were wrong. I’m not worthy of being the black paladin.” 

His words seemed to fall on deaf ears. Behind Shiro, the black lion slowly approached them. It helped to ground Keith’s flying thoughts before they could completely abandon him. 

“Keith, you need to listen to me.” Shiro’s voice snapped his attention back to the man. “Whoever’s piloting the black lion? That’s not me.”

_No…_

“I’m _here_ , Keith. I’ve been here since the battle with Zarkon. The black lion – it _protected_ me from Zarkon’s final blow.” He sounded so convincing. Something told him he could trust what he was saying. But, if that were true, then the implications…

_No._

“I asked it to make you leader when it was clear I couldn’t leave this place. It accepted. Keith, you need to warn the others. Whoever’s out there, pretending to be me – they’re _not me_. I’m _here_.”

“No – you’re wrong…” Keith’s voice was less than a whisper; a mere parting of lips letting forth hisses of air. “You’re… Shiro’s out there. He’s—that’s Shiro. He’s real. This is just a fever dream.” It had to be. It had to be. It had—

Keith choked on his own breath stilling uncomfortably at the back of his throat.

_It had to be._

“Keith—”

“ _ **This is just a fever dream. You’re not real!**_ ” 

The landscape rippled. Keith refused to look at the imposter; he clutched at his ears, as if to protect himself from further lies. The hulking figure imitating the black lion pounced in the space between them, hiding Shiro – _no. Not Shiro_ – from his view. The growing panic that had begun to tear into him settled somewhat into an irritating dance of needles along his skin. Still, the way the rumbles intensified in his head had him clawing at the sides of his head in an attempt to be rid of it. 

He wasn’t a paladin.

He wasn’t worthy.

He was just some hybrid Galra spy; it was all he was good at. He couldn’t be a paladin if it meant Shiro wasn’t with him. It hurt too much to even think about. He couldn’t lose him a third time. If what this imposter had said was true, then—

_Then Shiro hadn’t come back at all. He’d never left. He’d never—_

Keith swallowed back the bile that afflicted him even in this dream world. Under the pressure of the lions’ joined quintessence, he felt himself crumple in on himself, knees painfully hitting the ground. The pain did nothing for the building headache at the base of his head. Keith felt as though his brain was about to explode.

Through the pulsing ache wracking him near senseless, Keith felt something land solidly upon his shoulder. He opened his eyelids just a crack, peeling the watery glue that stuck them together. A brilliant white-blue glow he’d come to associate with concentrated quintessence nearly blinded him in the resounding darkness. Still, Keith followed the shape formed by this strange energy. His eyes travelled up, making out the shape of an arm, then connected the arm to a torso. It was decorated with a familiar insignia lined with a darker shade of blue. His breath seemed to catch in his throat. All at once, the purring stopped, and Keith was left in a stillness so absolute, he was hesitant to break it.

But this – this had never happened before, and he—

Beside the black lion, a familiar slight feline shape peeked out. The red finish only compounded his confusion.

“ _Lance?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't mean for this to go so plot-heavy, but it's there. 
> 
> I'm kind of upset today so it affected how much I hurt Keith. Obviously I'm not too upset, otherwise he'd probably be close to death again, but we'll see. I'm not gonna kill Keith off because he's literally the protagonist here lol so y'all don't have to worry about that. Hopefully my mood will improve by tomorrow so Keith can have some real progress in getting better. 
> 
> Thanks for reading today's installment. I hope y'all have a lovely day! <3


	14. If Only Death Were Simple

It had all been going so perfectly. 

Katie was finishing off the program that would give their R2-D2 dream a reality, standing over the drone with a cable connecting its hard drive to her armour’s gauntlet. She was otherwise in her clothes from Earth.

Matt couldn’t help the fond smile that pulled at his lips; he’d always known his sister was destined for greatness. Those kids at her school hadn’t known the greatness they were missing out on when they’d bullied her. They didn’t know the work she’d put in to get this far. 

Matt couldn’t be more proud.

That was when everything went so terribly, horribly wrong. 

At first, he hadn’t known anything was wrong. It wasn’t until he’d heard a dull thump from where Katie had been working that Matt snapped his thoughts back to the present. Back to the hanger.

Back to Katie, limp against the side of the hand-made drone. 

“Katie!” He gasped, tearing out of his station by the hanger entrance to go to his sister’s aide. He slid to his knees as soon as he drew near. Matt reached out and grasped Katie’s shoulders, hoisting her up, her head lolling back as her dead weight fell against him. He checked her pulse against her neck, which beat like soft butterfly’s wings against his fingers. 

It was weak.

“Katie! Can you hear me? Come on. Come on, please…” Matt tapped the side of her face, trying to rouse a reaction from the usually spirited girl. His heart nearly broke when she didn’t respond. Her eyes flickered beneath shut lids, breathing deep and even.

That was when she began to glow.

Her lion shifted at the side of the hanger, snapping Matt’s attention its way. He saw the green lion’s eyes begin to glow a cool golden hue. Chancing a glance back to his sister who was cradled in his arms, Matt watched as flecking green particles rose up from Katie’s body. The particles danced in random patterns around them. The green was so bright now it was almost white. 

Matt could almost feel the instant her breathing turned ragged, shallow and strained. 

Matt took this as a sign that something was completely wrong. His own heart pound uncomfortably against his ribcage. Matt scooped his sister up, racing out into the hall in a bid to reach the medical unit. If he could just get her to the others, they’d be able to figure out what to do about the obvious display of concentrated quintessence that was seeping from his little sister’s frame. 

It was a short sprint to the medical unit. The doors were already open, which Matt almost felt the need to thank someone up above for _something_ going right. 

That was until he saw what was keeping the doors open.

Matt stared in abject horror when his foot nearly tripped over a collapsed glowing lump emitting yellow particles, much like his sister. His breath caught in his throat. He could’ve sworn the lump was _Hunk_. 

Looking up provided no comfort other than the fact that at least one of the glowing people were standing. Lance was stationed by Keith’s incubator, his still form coated in white-blue light, a hand pressed into the thick glass. Within his bubble of controlled climate, Keith was ensconced beneath a brilliant red glow, brighter than all the others in the room, so bright that it threatened to blind the only non-glowing human in the room. 

“What is going _on_?” Matt breathed through his confusion. He distantly heard the lions roaring from the hanger down the hall. He had to turn his head away, hands occupied, as the paladins and Blade all lit up as one, colours meshing into a seamless mix of sharp tones. His theory of the light being quintessence was only accredited as a strong sense of _being_ took over the room, almost knocking Matt off his feet. It was so profound it left him reeling. Yet it was only brief, lasting no more than a split second before fading. 

When he opened his eyes next, no body was glowing. 

He looked up just in time to see Lance collapse against Keith’s incubator. 

~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~

Allura did not quite understand how she’d gotten here, or where ‘ _here_ ’ even was. Last she remembered; she’d been in a strategist briefing with the Blade of Marmora discussing their next moves regarding Lotor. She remembered Shiro accompanying her, and the first half of the meeting. Everything after that was shadowed by a feeling of _wrong_ and _fire_. It did not help that the fire felt cool. Still… 

This place…

It was strange; the sky appeared to blend into the ground beneath her feet, creating a paradox where up is to down as down is to up. 

Allura banished her confusion to the back of her mind. Her eye caught sight of five hulking masses in the distance, all of which were strikingly familiar. She thought she could feel some deep intrinsic part of her beckoning her forward, toward the distant figures. 

Her feet moved; one foot in front of the other. Each step brought her closer by entire galaxies and she watched as the masses took shape into the lions of Voltron. 

_All_ of them.

Their quintessence called out to her, willing her own pink aura to glimmer from within. Her vision was overcome by this pale light, then clearing to find herself in the centre of her beloved lions; the last of her father’s legacy. It took her a moment to notice her fellow paladins huddled nearby. It took her a moment to notice one missing.

“Where is Shiro?” She asked, voice regal. Only Pidge and Hunk seemed to react to her words, turning on their heels to face her. Lance was kneeling behind them. 

Allura could’ve sworn she saw something move from behind him…

“You’re here, too.” Pidge murmured, breaking her from her thoughts. Allura noticed the expression shot her way; one of unrest and concern. 

“’Here, too’? What—” Allura’s words were cut off as the thing she saw by Lance moved sharply away from him.

“ _You’re lying!_ ” 

Allura froze. That voice…

“Keith, you have to calm down—” Lance’s voice was calm, collected. It was everything Allura had never heard from the paladin. It took her off guard.

“No! Shiro’s not— _you’re lying! He’s not dead!_ ” Keith’s voice broke on the last word. It was a fragile thing, only powerful in pitch alone. The red aura that ensconced him was dim, flickering out of existence like a cold flame. 

Allura felt her heart freeze.

“Pidge…” She spoke evenly, collected even as dread crept up her spine. “What is Keith talking about? Where is Shiro?” 

Pidge wouldn’t look her in the eye. Allura clenched her jaw and felt the shock numb her to the situation. 

She now felt she knew why her waking thoughts were filled with cool flames. 

Without wasting another tick, Allura strode up to Lance’s side. The blue that shone from his very being was a deeper blue to a Balmeran crystal, yet it shined twice was bright. It appeared he’d been able to bring Keith back into an embrace; in his arms was a dull, rusted form, shaking in his tight embrace. 

She knelt, placing a gentle hand atop her former teammate’s head. He flinched at first contact but soon relaxed when Lance tightened his embrace, running his fingers through slightly matted hair. The fire that flickered along each strand met her hand as she pushed it into the thick mop of hair. It kept its texture despite its inability to remain stable in this plane of existence. Allura heard his voice catch several times as he muttered unintelligibly into Lance’s chest. She could hear the word ‘ _liar_ ’ repeated inconsistently. She bowed her head in barely-contained grief.

“Oh, Keith…”

The hybrid shuddered under her hand. For a tick, his form flickered out into a darkened char and ice met her fingers. Before she had a chance to truly grasp the terror of feeling his life force slip away, Lance tightened his arms briefly, white-blue light feeding into Keith’s form until it came back into its dull blaze. 

“Keith, please. You must listen to me.” Allura’s voice was regal, controlled, yet it lacked her usual air of demand. It was a tone she’d only reserved for her family. 

A family that included Keith.

“He’s not dead…” The spitfire that she’d come to recognise was missing, leaving his voice harsh and flat. There was no resolve to be found. An old pain bloomed in her chest; one she was able to put aside for the time being. She had other matters to attend to.

“We don’t know if he’s dead.” She said, voice firm enough to have him stilling beneath her fingers. Slowly, she fed his quintessence with her own. It warmed beneath her fingers. “But Keith, you must understand. You are in no shape to lose yourself here.”

He said nothing, but he didn’t pull away.

“Please,” Allura plead. “Let us help you.”

That seemed to garner a reaction from him.

“I’m not part of Voltron, anymore!” He gasped, tearing away from Lance once more even as his quintessence flickered dangerously. “You don’t have to care about me. I’m not one of you. I’m not a _paladin—_!”

**_ROOOAARRRRHHH!!!_ **

Allura was startled out of speaking when the black lion hunched over, roaring loud enough to make her eardrums pop. From beside her, Keith gasped, eyes staring at the behemoth in front of him. She saw the terror that washed through them and felt her heart break.

“Keith, what’s wrong—” Lance reached out a hand but stopped just before making contact. Keith barely noticed, still and rigid where he knelt.

“…it’s talking to me…” She heard him murmur. Her eyes widened. “Black’s talking to me…”

“Keith—!” Pidge exclaimed in shock, Hunk echoing her. Lance and Allura stared in shock as the black lion let loose a bolt of black-lit quintessence. It enveloped him. She could hear his scream…

_No!_

She snapped out of her shock. With no qualms about interrupting the quintessence fusion taking place before her, Allura focussed on her glowing pink quintessence. She let it build within her, then met Lance’s eye. She nodded.

“Take care of him.”

Then she let herself go, filling this field of quintessence with her own. A breath of relief escaped her, even as she felt herself detach from the world.

Keith had stopped screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when this was just a lil sick!keith fic and all it had was fluff and angst and Keith was supposed to be _better_ by chapter 10? 
> 
> Yeah. Me neither. 
> 
> I can’t believe I’ve been writing this for 2 weeks. If this goes for a month I’m gonna have to seriously consider why Keith isn’t dead yet. 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading. I hope y'all have a lovely day! <3


	15. Last Surprise

When Allura came to, she was aware of the dull ache that pulsed at the base of her skull. She distantly recognised a weight that was settled atop one shoulder, reaching up with her other hand to grasp the weight in a bid to help ground her. She struggled to open her eyes—

And promptly realised that mistakes were made.

Allura snapped her eyes shut against the sharp lighting beaming from her castle’s hallway light fixtures. The hand beneath hers was large – far too large to be Shiro’s – and did absolutely nothing to distract her from the nausea that threatened to force her into emptying her stomach then and there. She only managed to avoid such indignities by sheer force of will. 

“Princess, can you hear me?” Kolivan’s voice trickled through her ears, too loud but strangely muffled. She forced her eyes open, nausea under control for the time being.

“Kolivan…” Her voice felt far away, even to her own ears. She blinked dazedly. Allura was slowly regaining herself. “What happened?”

“I know not. On our way to the bridge, your quintessence became palpable. You collapsed shortly after.” He removed his hand as she propped herself up on shaky arms. She felt faint for a moment, world swirling around her, before righting herself. Her gaze became sharp, a disjointed frown tipping her lips.

“How long was I out?”

“No more than a few doboshes. Shiro went to fetch Coran.”

At those words, Coran and the aforementioned paladin rounded the corner ahead of them, pace set to a fast jog. They skidded to a stop a few paces away. Allura narrowed her eyes, frown turning into a hateful glare. She felt a blazing fire well in the pits of her stomach as the reality of the situation set in. She remembered the black lion’s mindscape; barren of all but its unwilling occupants. She remembered how Keith’s quintessence had puttered out several times, relighting only to a degree less than what it once was.

She remembered his screams.

“ _That_ … is _not_ Shiro.”

Her proclamation caught them all off guard. 

“But I—… what?” Shiro’s – _definitely not Shiro_ – expression formed an entirely authentic façade of bewilderment; one Allura would have believed if it weren’t for the way the light unnaturally caught his dark eyes. Those eyes were also far too hard, too narrow, too stern to the open love and kindness that had always shone through. Determination and warmth no longer existed; replaced by an innate cold indifference that did not match her earliest memories of this man. 

It wouldn’t have been noticeable had they been standing eye-to-eye, but at this angle, Allura saw the Galranesque qualities for what they were. 

The scar was thinner, pinked and gouged as if still fresh where it had once smoothly blended with the rest of his skin. His eyebrows were thinner and shone differently in the light, as if the colour wasn’t quite black but rather an incredibly dark _purple_. And in this light…

In this light, his skin was obviously layered with the faintest hints of violet. 

She saw this now; saw what he was. What he _truly_ was. Saw with her own two eyes that what happened in the black lion’s mindscape was not fiction. All at once, waves of grief fuelled her mounting anger. She let her emotions give her strength; strength she’d need to overcome this painful trial.

Allura rose to her feet.

With little effort, she straightened herself to her full height, nary a sway to be found. Her ears caught Kolivan rising behind her, but it seemed he hadn’t moved away. Allura mused, _that may become an issue…_

“You are not Shiro.” She said, this time with all the calm she couldn’t quite grasp. The imposter did not seem to understand how precarious his position was; he chose to move toward her, palms raised as if to tame a wild beast.

“Allura, I can see that you’ve been through a lot, right now. Let’s just get to the med bay so Coran can check you over. You went a little glowy there…” He said more, moved forward further, but Allura drowned it out. She hardened her resolve. Inside the depths of her being, she felt her connection to the lions empower her until her quintessence shone like a powerful aura; pink like the emblem upon her armour. The imposter stopped an arm’s length away, retracting their hands so her encroaching quintessence could not reach them. Still, even from this distance, she felt the familiar slime of the Witch’s magic seeping from his body. 

It sickened her.

In the distance, a powerful roar echoed from what she knew to be the castle’s tallest spire. She felt a need for justice; a need to right what has been wronged. It was not her own, yet she embraced it. She _made_ it her own.

“The black lion has spoken.” She hissed. 

The imposter’s eyes widened into orbs of surprise, but not fear, as if he could not quite understand what was going on.

Allura did not waste his hesitation. 

She darted forward, invading his guard and jabbing at his neck below what Lance had once explained to be the ‘Adam’s Apple’. She wanted him _alive_. He tried to deflect – or maybe dodge – but she was too quick. He stumbled back at the blow, clutching his neck with his flesh hand, choking through the pain of what was no doubt a fractured larynx. She did not stop to watch the beading of tears that threatened to fall from dawning eyes. Her arm darted out and grasped his. With one smooth motion, she spun on her heel and threw the imposter over her shoulder. He bounced twice along the hallway floor before falling limp; unconscious. 

She noticed Kolivan had had enough sense to move to the side. 

Allura stood there, breathing heavily as she shifted out of her pose. She saw Kolivan look to the fallen imposter, then to her. It was obvious he held some degree of caution for these events. She straightened.

“I believe there may have been a breach within our ranks. Coran,” She waited until her advisor broke from his reverie and affirm his services. “I believe a pod is required.”

“I’ll get a med bay cryochamber ready right away, princess!” He chirped, but quieted when she turned sharply. Her expression was hard.

“Actually, I think the detainment room would be far more beneficial, considering the circumstances.” She waited until he nodded before continuing. “We will put him in deep sleep. He will not wake until we have further information.” Allura’s tone was far more calm than it had been before her advance, quintessence faded into the depths of her being. Still, her advisor hesitated before bowing.

“Understood, Princess.” He said, tone grave. It was obvious he saw the dire nature of the situation. Allura appreciated it. Without further ado, Coran left to complete his tasks. It was only when he’d completely left the hallway that Allura felt something akin to prudence for the Galran rebel behind her. She turned on her heel to address him.

“Kolivan,” She said, “-is all well with Keith?”

She knew the answer, but she still wanted to hear it.

“No, Princess. He grows steadily worse. The green paladin and her brother have had to place him in an incubator for the time being.”

“I see…” her gaze fell. She felt her brow furrow of its own accord. “I believe it would be best if he were to be transferred here.”

“Princess?” His tone was hesitant. She wasn’t surprised, given the nature of his inbound quintessence. She sensed that he was a caregiver of younglings; something she’d had yet to feel until their first meeting. Her eyes darted up to meet his.

“I believe his condition will only deteriorate the longer he is apart from the lions.” She explained. “They call to him, even now. Earlier, the black lion attempted to perform a quintessence fusion on Keith, but the ceremony nearly killed him; their distance too great.”

“I see.” He nodded. His face was stoic as ever, but she detected the faintest hint of passion flicker within him. She was grateful to note that it was for her friend. “I will make the necessary arrangements. In the meantime, what of this one?” He gestured to the downed interloper. Her expression hardened with hate.

“I will deal with him. We cannot allow Voltron to be captured by the Empire.”

“The Empire?”

“Yes.” She said simply. “This one works for Haggar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. I only realised I wanted the clone thing dealt with after I saw this one pinterest pin of Lotor caressing Keith's face where the scar is. 
> 
> I just--
> 
> _can't_
> 
> Anyways, this surprisingly ties in with the ending of this fic. We might actually be seeing the end soon!
> 
> Then I can work on Lotor ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading! I hope you all have a lovely day! <3


	16. It's Not Loss If They're Not Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a discord so we can discuss stuff like Voltron and this fic and stuff. Hope someone joins. 
> 
> https://discord.gg/awxVjkh

He came to in stages. 

First it was distant beeping, shrill and insistent. It had a slow tempo; slow enough that Keith almost lost himself in its monotony. His head felt full of cotton and heavy as lead. He didn’t mind riding it out. The air filtering through his lungs felt still, and his body felt like it was being rocked to sleep, like when he was a kid and his dad was still around. 

He felt safe; felt the sentries’ steady presence, hulking and proud a ways away. He didn’t know what they were, or how he knew they were safe, but he _did_ know they wouldn’t let any harm come to him.

They reminded him of something… something _important_. It was there, he knew, but he couldn’t recall what it was. Was it people? A place? He thought of the swirling expanse of stars across a space-blackened sky…

Then, something happened. He wasn’t quite sure where it started, but a series of events triggered around him in a cacophony of disjointed hums and odd-footed tones. Then, the still air was disturbed. It seemed to chill; warm air sucked away into the world beyond. It didn’t feel safe, at all.

It didn’t feel _right_.

He clenched his fists – or _tried_ to – in an effort to regain feeling in his numb hands. They felt swollen but he couldn’t remember why they’d feel that way. All he could understand was the cool air that brushed his too-hot cheeks and the way his stomach felt like a pit gouged into his abdomen; the way his body was too weak to resist grabbing hands and thick arms as they held him close. His head was tilted up and positioned so his cheek pressed into a hard surface akin to armour. His nose decided to start working shortly after, picking up the smell of washed fur and spice—

It clicked.

_Kolivan._

He tried to say as much but all that managed to accomplish was an unintelligible whimper. The noise was pathetic, even to his ears. Worse yet, his tongue was thick in his mouth and made talking impossible, regardless of the numb state of his lips. 

Through the fever, Keith felt a deep-seated sense of mortification as a familiar rumble vibrated against his side.

_I hope Lance isn’t here to see this._

He didn’t think he could handle him knowing Galra could _purr_. 

He’ll never admit to anyone the noise soothed him. _No-one_. 

_I’d rather die_ , he thought with a head full of flustered vehemence that was half-assed at best. His body shook with feverish tremors as the effects of the dream slowly drained from his body, reminding him that – maybe, just _maybe_ – dying of embarrassment wasn’t the best way to go. 

Keith took a steadying breath; now was _not_ the time to feel mortified about his own heritage. 

He became aware of movement. It wasn’t his own, but rather the way Kolivan seemed to shift his arms, as if carrying a precious bundle down a corridor. Forcing his eyelids open just a crack revealed his assessment to be accurate. He couldn’t see much of the hallway without moving his head – and no way was he going to try _that_ at a time like this – but from the corner of his eye he thought he could see the familiar khaki grey of Lance’s jacket, white hood and all. 

He remembered the dream, and how Dream-Lance had tried to keep him calm. Something about losing himself…

Something about Shiro dying.

That _something_ erased the heat emitting from his chest, replacing it with a chunk of ice. 

_He’s not dead_ , he told himself, _he can’t be_. 

That didn’t make the sudden pain of grief abate, nor did it let the cold fade. No matter what his dream was about; Shiro was alive. He was on the Castle of Lions. He was the black paladin. He was real and a little fucked up from the arena and shit Haggar put him through, but _alive_. 

The alternative hurt too much to consider. 

He’d already lost so much, even before coming to space. He couldn’t handle losing Shiro. Not again. 

_Not a third time._

It was his fault they’d even left Earth. If Shiro hadn’t gone back to space so soon, he wouldn’t have disappeared again. He wouldn’t have been forced to fight in a war he had no place in. He’d been _fleeing_ this madness, and Keith had only brought him straight back.

How could anyone expect him to stay a part of Voltron when all he was ever good for was attracting strife? How could he stand to look Shiro in the eye without remembering it was _Keith_ , himself, who’d put him in that position? How could he forgive himself for something when there was no forgiveness to be found? No forgiveness to be earnt. No forgiveness, because some things were too much to bear…

He didn’t know why Shiro ever bothered with him. 

He wasn’t like the bright-eyed orphans who could pretend there was someone out there waiting for them; someone who would take them in and love them just as much as they could stand to love. He wasn’t some tame kitten who could be taken in by a family and treated as a pet or assimilated into their circumstances. 

He was Keith Kogane. He fought tooth and nail for things he didn’t even know if he believed in, followed weird energies out in the expanses of empty deserts, and gave up on the notion that there was anybody who cared. He was tough, a rock, a flame, something dependable who hated to depend on others.

He was Keith Kogane. His brother was Takashi Shirogane; the only being in the universe who he could say with one-hundred percent certainty wouldn’t give up on him. And…

And if he ever lost him again, he didn’t know what he’d do. 

He let out a puff of air, trying to think around the _guilt, guilt, guilt, loss, loss, pain_ that wouldn’t shut _up_. 

He blinked.

His nerves didn’t feel as shot as they used to. Keith worked his mouth and jaw to make sure; even clenched his fingers a few times from where they rest on his pitted stomach. His brain felt less like it was clouded even with the less than ideal thoughts pervading his mind with fears he’d usually buried before it got too bad. He didn’t think he could exactly walk, right now – coming from him, that spoke _volumes_ – but at least it felt like he could communicate. That was enough.

He _had_ to believe it was enough. 

“K…” His throat was painfully dry, even as he swallowed what non-existent saliva remained in his parched mouth. It felt like sandpaper. “Koli—van” He got out; face momentarily screwed in pain until he managed to figure out how to ignore it. 

It was almost scary how good he was at that – ignoring the pain – as if he’d been used to it his whole life. It wasn’t _wrong_ , but…

Sometimes he wondered how much of his life was lived on a battlefield, if not a literal war. 

“What is it, Keith.” Kolivan’s tenor vibrated through his chest, bringing Keith’s mind back to the present. He had to fight back a grimace at the pain he was about to wreak on his throat, but he couldn’t just let the questions rest.

_Knowledge or death._

“Wh… where a-re we… g-going?” He swallowed again, doing nothing for the sandpaper feeling that now felt akin to cracked and crumbling pumice. 

“The princess has requested your transfer to the Castle of Lions.” It wasn’t Kolivan who said that. Looking up, he saw Lance eyeing him from his new position by his feet. He had to blink.

“Wha-t?” Keith didn’t suppress his urge to cough; sound rough as gravel even to his own ears. He couldn’t help his shock. The last time he’d been in the Castle of Lions, he’d said his goodbyes with no intention of ever returning. For the princess to suddenly request his presence when he was weakened as he was…

The dream barrelled into him at full speed, threatening to choke him with its clarity. Lance, Pidge, Hunk, Allura…

_Shiro…_

The implications threatened to make him sick. 

When he was finished trying to murder a lung, he opened bleary eyes and saw Lance giving him a worried look. It was masked by the hard set of his jaw and the even harder steel that sharpened his navy-blue gaze but it was still there. 

“Allura said it was important you be taken back to the castle, dude.” He shrugged, as if he hadn’t just uttered doomsday’s heralds. Keith sighed. There really wasn’t anything he could do about it. He couldn’t even _walk_ on his own, let alone _run_ from – quite frankly – childish fears.

“Did…” Keith took a breath. Talking was much harder than it looked. “Did she s-ay… what f-or?” 

Lance turned his head so Keith couldn’t see his eyes. From this angle, all he could see was the tightening of thin lips and a skin too used to the sun pale in the hallway lighting. 

“Your recovery is most important to her,” Kolivan replied in his stead. Keith glanced up, even though all he could see was the fur lining the Marmoran leader’s chin. “-to the extent which she would prefer you close on hand in the case of further developments.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. 

Kolivan wasn’t lying. 

He _wasn’t_. 

But he gave a fucking _cop-out_ answer. ‘ _Further developments_ ’? The princess was a bucket full of kindness and optimism, don’t get him wrong, but Allura knew _full well_ he didn’t like to be pampered or fussed over. She knew him; knew that he knew her. 

And what he knew about her didn’t paint a pretty picture. 

Keith knew; the only reason Allura would want him close was if something big had happened. Something to do with the black lion, as he was the only known candidate who could replace—

Keith’s eyes widened. He felt his face morph into one of horror as realisation dawned. 

The only reason she’d need him close was if something had happened to _Shiro_.

Suddenly, everything felt too tight. The bedsheet wrapped around him, Kolivan’s arms, his chest – God, his _chest_ – it felt like the air was too thin to breathe properly. Worry and a sharp, acute _fear_ took hold of him and _dammit he couldn’t even stand_. He couldn’t even go and find out what had happened for himself; if Shiro was okay. He was trapped by his own body in ways he hadn’t felt since his shaded-out childhood. The blazing fever that plagued him since the mission was swallowed by the soul-deep chill that curled up and out of his chest and into the rest of his body.

Not even deep breaths seemed to help.

The nausea from before welled up, acrid bile burning at his abused throat, and he found himself pressing his temple into Kolivan’s broad chest to centre himself. Not even swallowing it down was doing the trick. 

Is it _so wrong_ that he just wanted this to end?

No more family deaths. No more having to lost people all over again and again and again until it feels like one of Haggar’s sick jokes. No more people to force him into a role with too many responsibilities and memories. 

He knew it was the illness messing him up; he didn’t normally let it get to him like this. He’d gotten better at the whole ‘calm zen’ bullshit Shiro was always trying to get him into. But…

If he were being completely honest with himself, he really _did_ want it to end. 

“…what is wrong with him?” He distantly heard Kolivan’s voice through the blood rushing in his ears. He thought he felt more rumbles vibrating at his size but with his body succumbing to tremors, he wasn’t too sure. 

“…panic attack… Shiro… get to… lions.” He heard Lance’s voice filter through his ears but he couldn’t make everything out. It was like listening to a foreign language, knowing you know all the words, but only half of them actually make sense. The only difference was he couldn’t even string together what he _had_ made out. 

“…anic…” Kolivan’s voice didn’t even make it through the fog. 

Keith shut his eyes until they painfully crinkled on his face. The view beyond his eyelids had begun to practice acrobatics and he wasn’t in the mood for a circus show. It felt like his throat was constricting. His lungs felt too full and too empty while his stomach felt just empty. He couldn’t feel any air being sucked in through his mouth or nose. He felt his heart drop out mid-beat.

_He couldn’t breathe._

It was just like the mission. Everything around him was too hot, too humid, too _full_ to fully suck in what oxygen he could. It was like more of that yellow powder had gotten stuck in his mouth and lined it with too-sweet spice. It was like the crackle of tainted quintessence hadn’t actually missed, and that dead Druid had set it on a timer so it would ravage him long after it was dead. 

Keith opened his mouth, gaping, closed it, and repeated the motion. He did this several times, trying to mimic the actions required to breathe. 

Somehow, he didn’t think he was doing it right. 

Around him, the scenery kept changing, even under the protection of his closed eyelids. The castle, the Blade of Marmora headquarters, Arus, Earth, the Garrison; repeat, repeat, repeat, _repeat_. 

His lungs burned beneath his skin. He wanted _out he wanted out **he wanted out!**_

And suddenly, he found a way out. 

It wasn’t in the crook of Kolivan’s arms, nor Lance’s distant voice. It wasn’t through breathing exercises or consciously letting himself lax. 

It was in the cool dark world, beyond the realm of life and space and breath and _air_ , curtained by thousands of galaxies as they swirled and winked overhead. It was in the black lion, which stood in front of him – _judged_ him – and lowered itself into a crouch, opening up the ramp to its cockpit. A person – no, a _man_ – walked out, onto the dusty surface of this not-planet.

It was in the one man he wished was here; _physically_ , so he could finally put all these fears to rest.

Yet, even as he thought that, something within him told him this was real, and that the person he saw before him was the _real Shiro_. 

He didn’t know when he’d opened his eyes, but still, he closed them.

If this was real, then it was true. It was all _true_. 

“Keith…” At the sound of his name, he opened his eyes back to the galactic scenery before him, accented by the glowing man walking towards him. Keith bowed his head, too tired to keep it up.

“So it’s true…” He murmured, a piece of him slotting into place as the events began to make sense in his head.

The way the black lion wouldn’t accept Shiro when he’d first came back to the team. The way the man was almost dismissive of him when they’d once been so close. 

The way he’d practically given up on him, even though he said he wouldn’t.

A weight landed on his shoulder, forcing him to look up. He could have cried at the soft look that met him half-way. 

“Keith, you can’t give up now. You need to live through this. I never gave up on you, kiddo. Not once.” The warmth Shiro sent his way was enough to sooth a part of him that had loathed to accept reality. Keith gulped.

“Not even a little?” He tried to joke, but it sounded strangled in this too-still environment. The black lion watched from the back but didn’t interrupt. Still, who needed it to interrupt when you have to stand getting a brotherly head-muss? 

He didn’t even grumble.

“Not even a little.” Shiro’s smile was nothing short of fond. He let his left hand come down from Keith’s hair and land on the younger male’s right cheek, forcing him to look up. Keith was okay with the manhandling; he used to get it a lot whenever he got into fights at the Garrison. Shiro always was a mother hen. 

_**That never changed.** _

Keith’s eyes widened. Shiro’s smile widened a fraction.

“You hear it, don’t you?” He said. “-the black lion.”

Keith nodded. Shiro seemed to let out a relieved sigh.

“Good. You’re going to need it.”

“What do you mean? Shiro, what’s going on?”

The older man only smiled; this time filled with melancholy. 

“How about let’s make a deal?” He said instead. Keith’s non-existent breath caught in the back of his throat.

The last time they’d made deals, it was just before the Kerberos mission… Keith had promised to be good at the Garrison, and in return…

In return, Shiro would come back in one piece.

Keith looked down at the metal arm still on his shoulder, knowing Shiro knew what he was thinking.

Guess they both broke the deal, huh?

“What is it?” He said instead, not wanting to ruin what little time he knew he had left here. Shiro used the hand at his cheek to force his eyes up, so dark cosmic orbs stared deep into blackened-grey.

“You gotta live, Keith. You gotta get through this hurdle.”

Keith swallowed. He nodded.

“What about you? What’s your side of the bargain?”

Shiro’s eyes sparkled under the starlight.

“I’ll tell you _everything_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to point out that Kolivan and Lance had agreed not to tell Keith anything BECAUSE THEY DIDN'T WANT HIM PANICKING, _KEITH_.
> 
> Way to take one for the team, asshole.
> 
> I actually have had panic attacks, and I don't know how it is for other people, but I kinda just based Keith's attack off of what I used to experience in high school. They were always worse when I found out the truth for myself and then didn't have anything to soften the blow.
> 
> Man. Coddling this guy is the opposite of what you wanna do when dealing with him. I swear his sole purpose is to touch a butterfly and turn it into a _wasp_.
> 
> Okay. So, at least after this chapter, Keith's fever should stop being a real problem in his recovery. Now that he's starting to accept what's been going on, his mental health _should_ hopefully start to improve. 
> 
> I cried three times in the making of this chapter, and not because it took a long-ass time to write (it did, though. It really did. 6 hours, man). 
> 
> Y'all get a long-ass chapter this round. Lucky things. 
> 
> I really hope I didn't go too OOC with Keith here. He's still kinda out of it because of the cold and the mental stuff, but that's no excuse for going out of character!
> 
> On a brighter note, the After Sick Keith Fic fic is gonna be the fic with lotor in it. It's basically gonna be crack. Like 100% memes and author service (because I sometimes read my own work, okay?). You guys are gonna love it, especially if you loved Lance's character in this fic. 
> 
> With that, please tell me what you think! Any theories or questions or a general chat, I'm down for! Thank you guys so much for reading today's installment! I'll see y'all tomorrow! <3


	17. Memelord Forgot To Meme

“Uh, guys? Is Keith supposed to look like a Christmas bauble?” Lance intoned from his spot near the back of the group. Pidge and Matt had said Christmas bauble lying in the back of the red lion, carefully cradled within Kolivan’s arms. Keith had grabbed hold of his arm when the older Galra had tried to part to make space for the Holt siblings, so he’d simply adjusted his grip and _cuddled_.

Fuck it. Keith’s a teddy bear, now. Top ten anime plot twist confirmed.

“I don’t know, man. He looks kinda like a _bloodstone_ …” Hunk was right, the Cuban paladin had to admit. The quintessence that he emitted was now a bottomless void instead of the flickering char and fire it had been in the mindscape. The void had streaks and speckles of bloody red swirling like entire nebulas floating in and out of existence. Each fleck and strand let out precious warmth but the void seemed to pull it from the very air. 

It was disconcerting but compared to the crumbling nature from the mindscape…

Lance had to admit this was much better. More stable. 

_More Keith…_

As if the quintessence had finally matched the hybrid’s true nature; a contradiction between heated volatility and cooled strength; cool rationality. _Acceptance_.

He didn’t know how he knew that. 

“I think he’s gone back to the black lion’s mindscape on his own…” Pidge’s voice muttered. In the small space, it wasn’t hard to hear.

“Wait—he can _do_ that?” Lance gaped. Kolivan didn’t even twitch at the news.

“Well, how else did we get there? None of us have a connection to the black lion, and I don’t remember seeing Shiro there.” She gave Lance a side-eye. “But he wouldn’t have been in the right frame of mind to pull us in like that, _Lance_.”

Lance flinched. Pidge stopped sending him a pointed side-eye in favour of resuming her diagnosis scan. The Cuban didn’t understand what exactly the reader was showing but even from here he could see that most of the measurements were off the glowing holographic charts. 

“Wait…” Hunk furrowed his brow beside him and Lance wished his best friend wouldn’t figure it out. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?” He gave Lance a pleading look, but he couldn’t force himself to meet it. “Lance?”

“It’s nothing, Hunk.” He lied, but he knew he didn’t exactly sell it. He felt like an ass for even trying.

“Lance figured out how to draw our quintessence into a lion’s mindscape.” Pidge said, absentminded as if it didn’t matter. That tone, so even and empty, said Lance royally fucked up. He flinched again.

Hunk’s gasp and betrayed eyes were enough to topple his ass-crack-thin resolve.

“I _panicked_ , okay?” He cracked. He felt cornered even though only Hunk was looking his way. Not even Matt looked up to shoot daggers. It was almost worse. “Keith was screaming something about it just being a fever dream and it wasn’t real and that Shiro wasn’t dead and I _panicked_. The I heard Red telling me to let her handle things and I just… _did_ it. It wasn’t—I didn’t do it on _purpose_.”

“Whatever the case,” Kolivan said, cutting Lance from his ramble, “-I should thank you.”

The protests died on Lance’s tongue. He blinked.

“One of my Blades would have surely perished had you not intervened. It is to my knowledge that his heart stopped multiple times during the ordeal, only restarting when supplied with your quintessence.” The Blade leader looked right at him. “Thank you.” If there was anyone who could pull off earnest stoicism, it was Kolivan. 

Lance hesitated. Then he nodded.

He was still freaked out about the raw _power_ that had coursed through him in those moments; still terrified of how _right_ it felt. How he was finally looking into the deepest parts of himself and peering into a starlit mirror, exposing himself in all his entirety with no reservations. He inwardly shuddered. 

Helping Keith made it all worthwhile. He had to keep reminding himself of that, even if he’d used that same strange energy again to put him back into the mindscape when it seemed as though Keith was about to give himself a nosebleed. He’d just… _reacted_. As if it were completely normal to take hold of someone else’s very _being_ and shove it in a metaphysical realm outside the means of standard comprehension.

He took comfort in the fact that Allura had been alright with it. Maybe she could tell him why he became Merlin within the span of five seconds. 

_It is because he wanted you to do so…_

Red’s thoughts flickered into pieces of knowledge that filtered into his mind. Suddenly everything started to make sense. 

_Right._

Because Keith dishing out random powers to the main characters of a troupe _totally_ didn’t scream _Power Rangers_. 

And Lance completely took on the role of the handsome protagonist with both hands, sparing Shiro of this heavy burden.

_Gotta take one for the team._

He tried not to cringe by how forced it felt. Fake bravado seemed to die on him, today.

“Well, at least he’s stable. He sure ain’t dying.” Pidge broke the solemnity in the air. From beside her, Matt nodded.

“The worst case is he’s probably gonna be feeling weak after expending so much quintessence in such a short period.” He confirmed. Kolivan furrowed his brow.

“I was under the impression his quintessence took a different form.” He stated; the underlying question nonintrusive. It showed how much he trusted their judgement by the fact that he hadn’t just called Allura or Coran to verify. 

“Yeah. It used to be more volatile. Like fire.” Pidge pushed the fake glasses up her nose. “The change could mean anything, but since it doesn’t look like he’s gonna burn out to cinders, I’ll say it’s a good thing. I’ll ask Coran to verify once we get to the castle.” 

“Understood.”

With that, his fellow paladins – and Matt – stood and moved to leave so they could get this show on the road. Lance stood back to watch them go. He blinked when he came face-to-face with one clearly-upset gremlin he absolutely fears more than Zarkon or Haggar or the rest of the Galra Empire. 

She motioned for her brother to go without her. Hunk hadn’t even seen her stop, having already patted Lance’s shoulder before walking down the ramp. For a moment, all that could be heard from their position in the doorway was the movement of the other lions accepting the people who wished to board them. 

Lance let out a sigh. 

_This is the part where Pidge blacklists me. I’ll never get to play video games with her again. No more meme circles with us and the space sponges. She’ll take away the headphones she gave me. She’ll never share her music again. It’s gonna be awful—_

“I don’t hold it against you.”

Lance blinked.

“Uh— _What?_ I mean – You don’t?” Lance rubbed the back of his neck.

_Smooth, McClain._

“With the whole ‘sucking us into Black’s mindscape’ thing. I don’t blame you.” Pidge looked up at him with understanding eyes. Lance felt the need to at least be real with her.

“Red said it was Keith.” 

“I—What?”

“Yeah. She said Keith let out this _call_ or something. Red helped me to answer. It was… _weird_.” He turned his head to the side, trying to hide his discomfort. He didn’t want Pidge to know how bare and open he felt right now. 

Pidge blinked. Brow furrowed.

“A _call_ …”

She shook her head.

“We’ll talk to Allura once we get to the castle.” She said, no room for rebuttal. “We can figure out exactly what happened, then.” Lance nodded. She turned to leave, but paused, as if thinking better of it. “Hey Lance?” 

Something in her tone made him freeze. He felt like he’d been caught giving the mice facials again. 

“Uh, yeah?” He asked.

“… are you okay?” She seemed to hesitate. The honest worry was still there. 

In true Lance style, he brushed it off.

“Uh, duh. Of course I’m fine. I’m not the one starring in my own drama.” He gave a nonchalant shrug, topping the expression with a self-assured smirk. 

Now wasn’t the time to be focussing on him. He wasn’t important. 

Thankfully, Pidge didn’t seem to notice his less-than-appreciative thoughts. It was always bad when she caught on; when anyone caught on, really. They didn’t need the drama, right now. 

“Okay. We’ll head off in two doboshes.” She waited until Lance gave her a mock salute and a ‘ma’am yes ma’am’ before leaving. He signed.

That could’ve gone worse.

He allowed himself a glance Keith’s way, watching the way the patterns warped and formed across what should be skin. It filled him with guilt; slimy and thick at the bottom of his stomach, balling at the back of his throat. He couldn’t quite swallow it down.

_Hang on, Keith. Please, just…_

_Just hang on._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot what I was going to do with this chapter, so I wrote this. I guess in a way it shows Lance sometimes struggles to throw memes everywhere when one of his friends is down for the count. On the bright side, we finally understand how Lance was able to initiate the whole glowing thing and the mindscape fusion. 
> 
> Filling plotholes is so satisfying. (✿❦ ͜ʖ ❦)
> 
> But that unfortunately means the end is gonna be a little farther away. Again. I wonder if it'll get to 30 chapters, but at the same time, I need to finish it soon. Finals are coming up for me and I don't wanna get out of the writing groove mid-way.
> 
> In any case, thank you guys so much for reading today's installment! I hope y'all have a lovely day! <3


	18. Knowledge Or Death

_I’ll tell you **everything** …_

_Tell you **everything** …_

_**Everything**._

“Everything…” His own voice echoed around in his head like the word brought meaning to the unknown. In a way, it did; as did it not. ‘ _Everything_ ’ was vague, broad, hazy. It was like quicksand or dust plumes on a hot summers day. It was dangerous as was it curious in the way the danger drew him near like a moth to a flame.

There was no flame here, though. Just him, Shiro, and the black lion, who was watching the conversation unfold like a patient teacher or parent. He let that calm whatever nerves he might have had before now; opened himself up to the pleasant rumbling that seemed to coax on the fringes of his mind. 

It spoke of love and family and all the things he’d thought he’d abandoned years ago in favour for survival. It spoke of forbidden litanies he’d uttered in his youth, wishing for all the things he knew he couldn’t have. It spoke of the dreams he’d held closer than any memory; dreams of light and warmth and a rumbling so faint it could’ve been made up. It spoke of _Pierre_ , and how they’d almost convinced him he could have it all with them and more.

It spoke of betrayal he’d seen coming a mile away.

It spoke of strength.

It spoke of trust.

He listened.

“Okay.” He agreed; voice stronger than it had been since Shiro disappeared that second time. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“You’ll do what?” Shiro asked, voice slow and measured. His eyes seemed to be tracking every minute twitch and shift in expression that slid across Keith’s face. He was asking for Keith to say the vow in entirety. No loopholes, no failures based on technicalities. 

“I’ll live. I won’t…” Here, he hesitated. He closed his eyes momentarily, taking a breath; he had to accept this fully or else it wouldn’t matter. “I won’t let myself die. I’ll keep fighting. And you’ll…” Keith let out a short breath then dragged in another lungful.

_Knowledge or death._

“You’ll tell me everything; about what’s going on, about this place, about the black lion. Everything.”

Shiro nodded in agreement. With that out of the way, Keith finally let his shoulders sag from their tensed position, huffing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He didn’t feel anything with the promise of answers, just a strange numb emptiness that had made a home in his chest that disassociated his thoughts from his emotions. He thought he could feel the leftover flickers of grief and despair that had previously threatened to snuff him…

He blinked.

There were arms around him, pulling him close into a sturdy chest. Those flickers of toxic emotion seemed to die where they’d burned. So, too, did the numbness. There was a warmth that spread through him that had nothing to do with the fire or the fevers he’d remembered of his waking life. It had nothing to do with whispered memories of hot desert days spent under an unforgiving sun. It had nothing to do with his youth and everything to do with the man keeping him close with a possessive grip, as if one falter would cause him to disappear all over again. 

It was the feeling of being wanted, of being loved, of being cared for by someone he’d come to call his brother. 

It was home; the feeling of it, anyway.

It was the feeling of home like before his dad died, before the orphanages and before the foster families took their claim on him.

It was like those first few days on Arus, when he’d been most loath to leave Shiro’s side after having lost him for so long. 

Suddenly a speck of that gaping pain of loss and grief welled up, no where near as bad as it once was. He let it run its course; let it guide his hands up to grasp and cling at Shiro’s back with that same desperation he’d felt not that long ago. He might not feel the same way anymore, but he still remembered life with this man, and a life without. He knew he couldn’t live that life anymore. 

He knew he didn’t have to. 

Not anymore.

The black lion let loose an audible rumble that echoed long after it was sung, as if in agreement. 

Somehow it took an enigmatic sentient alien robot lion to put things into perspective.

Keith snorted into the dip of Shiro’s shoulder.

“What’s so funny?” Shiro asked, a smile obviously playing at his lips if the answering chuckle was any indication. Keith let the faint flash of mirth run its course. 

“Black’s pushy.” He said. Now, Shiro laughed in earnest, the sound reverberating through his chest and into Keith’s. He sighed into the somehow soothing sensation, ignoring the ‘ _Galra can purr_ ’ reminder he was sure to get when he left this place.

And he _would_ have to leave eventually. He promised he’d live. If he intended to keep his promise, he had to take care of physical needs, of which the list was a mile long. He could work out the rest later.

He didn’t quite mourn the loss of his wildfire-like emotions, but he wasn’t sure if it was because he seemed to lack the ability to at the current moment. He still felt the downright comfort in this embrace, though, so Keith chalked it up to needing more time. In any case, his mind was clear for the first time in phoebs and he could finally _think_. 

And he really felt he owed an apology.

“I’m sorry,” He blurted. From his position, he could practically _feel_ Shiro’s confusion. “I didn’t listen to you. I kept believing in a lie, even when everything told me it was wrong.” Shiro pulled him in tighter, mushing Keith’s face into his chest. It was borderline uncomfortable, but he really needed this. 

He couldn’t complain about this; not after what he’d been through to get it. 

“You never gave up on me, Keith. I’ll never hold that against you.” Shiro’s words brought a sickening warmth to Keith’s chest. It made it kind of hard to breathe and his eyes felt hot behind closed eyelids. He revelled in this feeling, let it wash over him as the cold clarity within him melted somewhat. 

For the first time in a long time, Keith felt at peace. 

He felt at _peace_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna add another perspective but found out there's more than one thing I wanted to cover in that other perspective so I left it for tomorrow night. It's just a bunch of plotholes I felt needed filling (and this time I wrote chapter notes so I won't get sidetracked). 
> 
> This chapter was a little gift from me to me. I've had a rough day and I needed a cuddle. This seemed appropriate. 
> 
> Also, I figured y'all deserved to know exactly what Keith was going through with the whole "Black Lion quintessence fusion" from a few chapters ago. So now you know most of Keith's emotions have been muted. Not all of them (evidently), but enough that he's able to hear himself think. 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading. Y'all have a lovely day! ♥♥♥


	19. Food, Glorious Food

Sometime during the flight, Red seemed to think Lance needed a break. 

They were still six vargas out from the Castle’s location. Lance had already piloted his lion for four hours straight and knew he had the reserves to go the rest of the way.

Red didn’t agree.

At all.

“Hey! What gives?” Lance groused when the controls were forcibly pulled from his grasp for the fifth time that dobosh. Red had been giving him mental nudges for most of the flight thus far to go rest up while she took over, but Lance was _fine, thank you_. This time, instead of another mental nudge, Red just jerked the pilot seat back and forcibly turned it so Lance had a view of the cockpit’s exit doors. 

He huffed. “I’m fine, Red. I can go for a while longer.”

When nothing happened, he huffed again, slumping in his chair. She didn’t even send any nudges his way, knowing the gesture was more than enough to get her point across. He stayed there for another dobosh, staring listlessly at the cockpit’s ceiling and wondering when the red lion had adopted him and decided to start treating him like her own cub. 

He distantly wondered if Galra called their young ‘cub’s or ‘kitten’s.

…

Now he _really_ wanted to ask Kolivan. 

He’ll have to really see that Galra physiology file Pidge was talking about; it seemed the kind of thing that would be in there. He already knew the Galra had crazy long lifespans – hello, _Zarkon_ – but—

Wait.

Would that mean Keith was a _baby_ to them? Oh _man_. 

Already, Lance could feel the hysteric giggles that tried to escape his chest as exhaustion crept up on him. Maybe Red was right; maybe forcibly connecting with everyone’s quintessence and letting Keith pull them into the mindscape was a little harsh on the reserves. Now that he wasn’t focussing on piloting, he felt a little lightheaded and the faint pinpricks of a budding migraine growing just behind his left eye. His limbs all felt a little heavy and his grip seemed strained from being clasped around the controls this whole time. He had a twinge of nausea bubbling up but quickly swallowed down. 

That only revealed its own set of problems.

“Crap.” He choked around the dry tickle in his throat. He clutched at his neck and winced. Lance was quick to get his blue _Voltron_ water pouch from his armour, remembering to take small sips to test himself. Sure enough, the water faintly felt like needles over sandpaper.

“Keith gave me his cold.” He realised, completely scandalised. An instinctive shudder wracked over his body, settling in just a few ticks. He knew it wasn’t too bad at this point. He’d probably get over it after a nap—

_Red telling him to have a cat nap suddenly made sense…_

“Alright, beautiful. You win.” He conceded, standing and packing away his bulky water pouch in one motion. He let loose an amused grin as Red practically preened in his mind, dangling her obviously _right_ point of view in the forefront of his mind. “Of course, _mi reina_. You are always right.” 

Red’s presence in his mind was wreathed with what Lance could only call ‘sass’. 

He wanted to thank King Alfor – _personally_ – for making this moment possible. 

Chuckling at the beginnings of his very own Academy Award speech in the making, Lance stumbled the short distance to the now-open doors. He stopped just short of crossing the threshold, wondering what would greet him on the other side. That line of thinking got him to shake his head.

_The mission’s not over, yet. Keith still has to get to the Castle. Then, the recovery. I can do this._

He closed his eyes and took a short breath, as though he were lining his next shot. By the time he’d opened his eyes, what remained of his nerves had retreated enough to keep going. He stepped into the back zone, knowing the instant Red locked him from the cockpit. His grin almost came back; _she’d actually been serious about that, huh?_

It wasn’t so bad. Keith was back here. At least he’d know if he was okay.

**_And you will take your rest._ **

Lance winced at being caught out. He hadn’t planned on having a nap; unless resting now included brushing up on his _meme game_ —

Red sent him a mental image of him sleeping in his sleeping bay back at the Castle of Lions, cuddled around Hunk’s teddy bear and wrapped in a hand-knitted Altean throw after a particularly bad night. He winced at the reminder of his bout of homesickness. 

_Okay, okay, fine. I’ll sleep._

She rumbled at the back of his head. He entertained the idea that she’d done this sort of thing for Keith. Suddenly the pale teen’s pouting in the red lion’s hanger made _complete sense_. Red’s purring approval almost sent him into another fit of giggles. It lightened the load he felt weighing on his shoulders, lessening the pressure that had been building between his temples. It didn’t eradicate the budding cold but that was nothing. He could handle a little discomfort.

He just hoped Pidge and Matt would make some cold meds for this shit.

Pasty skin did _not_ match his outfits.

~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~

Keith was… _warm…_

It was nothing like the fever he’d experienced these last few times of consciousness; gentle, soft, as if he were bundled and not radiating it from the inside.

It almost felt like the remnants of the dream… 

Mindscape… 

_Shiro…_

He opened his eyes a crack, staring straight up at the innards of what he instinctively knew to be the red lion. The briefest touches of a low flame brushed against the corners of his mind. He sighed at the ghostlike touch. It had been so long since he’d had an open connection with her. It was like he’d come home.

 _Almost._

A light spice underlying the air brought his attention to his side, where vividly coloured flowers decorated the floor in heaps and bouquets. The scents were sweet and strangely familiar…

_Are these from Earth?_

He blinked. They didn’t _look_ real, but his vision was questionable at best. The scents were authentic enough for him to pinpoint a few of them.

_Rose, apple blossom, chrysanthemum… I can’t name the rest…_

A ripple of nostalgia bubbled in his stomach. Keith belatedly realised he forgot to visit his dad’s grave before coming to space. When he’d had the money, he’d often buy whatever flowers the funeral home was selling at the time and leave them at the grave. The last time was phoebs ago, if his math was correct. It wasn’t anywhere near the anniversary, but… he just…

He wondered if his dad would’ve been proud, if he could see him now. 

In all likelihood, his dad probably hadn’t wanted him to get involved in an intergalactic war. He couldn’t speak of his mother; she’d never turned up after the funeral, nor had his dad ever explained anything to do with his heritage. 

_God_ , he missed him.

It was an old ache, but it ached the same. It was dull in comparison to those first few months in the system, where all he’d done was run away from authorities and keep dodging orphanages until they labelled him a lost cause. It was fine; he didn’t _want_ to be taken into a new family. Though, thinking of the members of Voltron, Coran, even Kolivan…

He didn’t think he minded being in a family. Not anymore.

Something ridiculously soft and _fur-like_ trailed the side of his face. He blinked, only now noticing how blurred his vision had gotten; how watery his breathing had become. Keith looked to his side, finally noticing Kolivan, who had removed his gloves and been cradling his head to help with breathing. He’d also just brushed away some of his tears…

Keith flushed. He wasn’t normally this sentimental around people. His face only reddened further when the rebel leader placed a hand atop his forehead, as if checking for fever.

“You do not seem to be sporting a fever,” Kolivan murmured, taking his hand and running it through Keith’s hair. He felt the warmth of his face spread to the tips of his ears as it elicited a deep rumbling from his chest. 

“Hey, Kolivan.” He tried to deflect, knowing he was doing poorly. The caress did not cease. Keith wasn’t sure if he wanted it to or not. Mortification seemed to be his best friend, at the moment. His voice was weak, barely above a whisper, but at least his throat didn’t feel like he was swallowing battery acid anymore. Progress.

“So you are awake.” Kolivan said in lieu of a response. Keith was confused by what that was supposed mean but didn’t get much of a chance to delve in on it. The familiar hiss of Red’s cockpit doors met his decidedly _less_ stuffed ears, alerting him to a new arrival. Sure enough, in walked Lance, looking like he’d just heard a bad pun if the grimace but slight upturn of lips was any indication. Their eyes met. Lance’s half-smile turned into a full grin.

“You’re awake!” He sounded so relieved, rushing over and kneeling beside him, reaching around Kolivan’s petting hand to place his own hand atop Keith’s forehead. It took him slightly off-guard. For some reason, the natural way Lance did it was almost as soothing as Kolivan’s own care. If not, more-so. 

Not that he would _ever_ admit that. 

“Okay! Your fever’s broke. That’s _awesome_ —”

**_GggrRRRrrrroooOOOOooorrrr…_ **

Lance snorted. Keith sighed, resigned. As long as the _purring_ thing wouldn’t come up, he’d take it. 

“I believe the yellow paladin placed the stew in that compartment,” Kolivan nodded to a nearby storage unit fixed into the wall. 

“Right. Thanks.” Lance nodded. He stood with a grace Keith had almost forgotten between the fever and their time spent apart. Some distant part of him reminded of the rumours surrounding the _Voltron Show_ ; how Lance had somehow mastered silk acrobatics between then and when Keith had left the team. 

He wasn’t given much time to dwell on it. Or maybe he was just a slow thinker. Either way, by the time he blinked in earnest, Lance was kneeling by him again, a bowl of something warm in his hands. Experience of Hunk’s cooking warred against the niggling fear of Coran’s. He moved his head away from the spoon as it was lifted towards his face. Lance rolled his eyes at him.

“Keith, you need to eat.”

“I can feed myself.” He argued, the briefest flickers of fire lighting within him.

“And get the food all over your toga? Nope. Not happening.”

“It’s _not_ a toga.”

“It’s _totally_ a toga, dude.”

“ _Lance_.”

“ _Keith_.”

They looked at each other with equally stubborn glares, neither willing to back down on the matter. The ‘ _toga_ ’ comment was a little grating, but even Keith could admit he was feeling a little cold in just his bedsheet. In the end, it was Kolivan who broke it up.

“Perhaps it should be tested.” 

The boys blinked. They looked to Kolivan, who was as stoic as ever, then down at each other. They shrugged. Lance tipped the contents out of the spoon and back into the bowl. He held it out for Keith to take. Kolivan hoisted him so he was now leaning against the broad chest. It was obvious even to him that he was too tired to support his own weight. Keith put aside his own embarrassment in favour of _proving Lance wrong_. He grasped the fork with steady hands, confident he was right. 

And was promptly proven otherwise. 

“Fuck.” He said as the spoon slipped out of his fingers. They had no grip. Luckily – _annoyingly_ – Lance seemed to have seen this coming. The spoon was caught just before touching the floor. Thankfully, he didn’t seem interested in gloating. Keith took some comfort in that. 

“Now, open wide~.” Lance sang, spoon now topped with more stew. Keith scowled.

“Fuck you.”

“We’ll discuss our options later.” Lance didn’t miss a beat. Keith rolled his eyes, sighing. He opened his mouth, accepting the stew—

Correction: _inhaled a piece of literal heaven_.

When Lance brought the second spoonful up, Keith didn’t even bother with pretence. He met the spoon half-way, looking at Lance expectantly as he blinked in surprise. 

“What are you waiting for?” Keith let his impatience show. This stew had to be the best he’d ever tasted, and that included what he remembered of his dad’s cooking. Thankfully, the question snapped Lance out of his shock. Another spoon was brought up; Keith met it half-way.

“You know, I’m getting the distinct feeling you missed Hunk’s cooking.” Lance said, the next spoon topped with some kind of meat. Keith ate that too. He looked Lance in the eye, completely serious. Lance looked at him in mild concern, lowering the spoon. “You okay?” 

Keith closed his eyes and took a breath. When he opened them, he met Lance’s worried gaze with one of absolute determination.

“If Hunk’s cooking was a religion, I would follow it. Completely.”

Lance blinked. 

He blinked again.

Then he snorted.

It turned to full-blown laughter. Keith let the carefree noise pull at the corners of his mouth. He could feel his face stretching into what he remembered a grin feeling like. He was completely serious about what he said, but after everything that’s happened between now and leaving Voltron…

Hearing Lance laugh felt uplifting. 

It wasn’t long before the paladin managed to get his giggles under control, breaking into them every time he looked at Keith’s face and the way he’d eye up the bowl of stew. He finally relented, filling another spoonful. 

It was with a grim determination that Keith vowed to eat every last bite of this glorious stew, then demand Hunk make more. He never wanted to go with out Hunk’s cooking again. The rations provided by the Blade of Marmora were edible, but this. 

_This._

**_This._ **

Keith would _shank someone_ for this.

He will.

Don’t fucking test him. 

Because he _will_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The best part about all this is that Keith is 100% serious about shanking someone over this. What a precious cinnamon roll hanging around too many Galra now he wants to battle ppl for the honour of Hunk's cooking. I love this boii. 
> 
> Ok so turns out those chapter notes covered "the next two chapters" not one. In any case, here's Lance and Keith, Keith and Lance. I had a lot of fun with it. I'm currently dealing with fatigue so it's probably not at the same quality as the other chapters. I tried to keep it fun, though. Everyone's gonna be upsetti spaghetti strands soon and this is all gonna be a distant memory. 
> 
> God. Big mood. 
> 
> btw: Mi reina = Spanish = "My queen"
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading today's installment. Until next time! ♥♥♥


	20. The Chapter In Which Keith Is Just A Teddy Bear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a discord so we can discuss stuff like Voltron and this fic and stuff. Hope someone joins. 
> 
> https://discord.gg/awxVjkh

“This is horrible.”

“It’s not horrible.”

“It’s horrible, Lance.”

“Keith, it’s just food.”

“… I can’t believe you just said that to me.” Keith looked Lance directly in the eye, face as stoic as Kolivan’s if it weren’t for the briefest shimmer in his blue sandstone eyes. Lance rolled his eyes, breaking the intense stare-off as if it were nothing but a light-hearted conversation. 

“I’m not lying, Keith. It’s—”

“Don’t fucking finish that sentence, Lance.”

“-just—”

“I mean it.”

“- _food_.”

“Goddammit— _Lance!_ ” Keith put a hand up to massage the bridge of his nose. From his place by the food bowl, Lance snorted. Keith looked down at the bowl in Lance’s hands; it was barely half-filled, but there was obviously still food in there.

Delicious…

Food…

The kind only Hunk can seem to make this far out in space.

He could almost say it trumped _fast food_.

Seeing that he wasn’t able to finish a full serving of this glorious meal had left Keith in a particularly sour mood; cursing his stomach for its inability to let him eat what he wanted. 

“This is a travesty,” He moaned, head nestled in the crook of Kolivan’s shoulder. The elder Galra merely looked down at him with a raised eyebrow but otherwise seemed content with holding him up. Keith still didn’t have the strength to support himself but he knew, given enough time, that would change.

_Beep—beep—beep!_

Short beeps startled all present. Keith looked down at the origins, noticing a thin rod sticking to the skin of his right-hand wrist. At first, it had remained unnoticeable; nothing more than malleable glass. Now, images – _numbers_ – flickered to life above it. There seemed to be a pattern but Keith couldn’t understand it. 

“It seems the green paladin’s invention is functioning as required.” Kolivan’s chest rumbled beneath his back in time to his voice. Keith barely caught the responding rumble from his own chest before it had a chance to be heard. 

“Invention?” Keith asked, turning his head up. 

“Oh, yeah! Pidge wanted to monitor you from her lion.” Lance seemed happy enough to explain. Though, frankly, that just left more questions.

“Why didn’t I just go into the green lion, then? Wouldn’t that have made more sense?”

“The red lion was… rather agitated when moving you into the green lion.” Kolivan’s hesitation confused him. It sounded like he was taking a page out of Allura’s book on diplomacy…

“…agitated…?” He murmured, still trying to wrap his head around it. Thankfully, Lance seemed okay with spilling the beans on what _really_ happened.

“Red tried to eat Kolivan.”

Keith blinked. 

He could believe that.

Still, he took a look up at Kolivan to test these words. Finding no objection there, he brushed his mind against Red’s. 

She wasn’t even embarrassed.

She practically _preened_. 

Keith snorted. With it, the warm scent of Earth flowers tickled at his nose. He looked at them, mesmerised by the colours decorating the area. 

“What’s with all the flowers? They look hand-made.”

Kolivan’s chest rumbled under his for a moment. A brush of warmth bloomed on Keith’s face as he fought to hold in an answering purr. He gulped, but otherwise stayed silent. 

“The red lion’s paladin was insistent.” The rebel explained. Keith blinked, then looked at Lance.

“You made them?” His voice was one of awe. He’d never seen so many flowers in one area, even in the flower shop at the graveyard his dad was buried. There were so many different kinds…

“Flowers help people feel better. I just figured… you know…” And Lance just shrugged, as if he hadn’t spent what must have taken _hours_ , all to make him feel better. Something warm settled into the centre of his chest, small and fragile. He breathed in, trying to savour the feeling. 

It didn’t fade.

Slowly, tentatively, Keith let the corners of his mouth curl upward. _That was really nice of him…_

He wasn’t too sure what to do to convey how he felt, but if he remembered anything from his childhood, it was that you thanked people when they were nice to you.

Even if it was fake.

Which this wasn’t. 

Lance couldn’t be faking it after going through all this trouble; at least that, Keith knew. 

“Thanks, Lance.” He said softly, nodding his head as one of his hands closed around a nearby rose with felt thorns lining the sides. He could smell its smooth, almost buttery scent from his place against Kolivan. 

“Anytime, Mullet.” His tone was just as soft, a similarly tentative grin gracing his lips. Their eyes met for a brief tick, having a _moment_. It was over sooner than either of them would have liked.

Lance stood up, having packed away the _mournfully delicious_ stew and cutlery that had been used to help feed Keith. When the area was cleared, Lance reclined back next to Kolivan, against the wall. Keith resigned himself to the – admittedly _comfortable_ – arms keeping him leaned against the elder Galra. _Well, this is embarrassing._

“Oh, uh, speaking of flowers…”

Keith blinked. He did _not_ like the tone Lance used.

“Yeah?”

In answer, Lance held up a small container filled with the pollen from those hulking flowers from the mission. Keith turned in Kolivan’s grasp, so that he curled on his side into the broad chest. His head peeked from over the Galra’s shoulder. He intantly saw the sly smirk gracing Lance’s face. 

_Oh no._

“You turned into a cheesepuff over catnip, dude.” The paladin was barely able to get it through his snickering. Keith felt like a rock had sunk to the bottom of his stomach. 

_Oh **no**._

“No. Way.” He denied, voice brokering no argument. A part of him knew where this was going.

“Uh, Yeah-way.” Lance mimicked. “This is Holt-confirmed bullshit right here. How come you got to get high in space?” It would have sounded more accusatory if it weren’t for the helpless giggles marking each word. Keith put a hand to the bridge of his nose, trying to massage away the budding headache that was sure to form from this. 

“Lance, it’s not a competition—”

“Nope! Not hearing it.” He interrupted, “-especially not from the guy who got to fly like a kite while the rest of us worried.”

“ _I’m not a cat!_ ” Keith tried to defend. Mortification coloured his cheeks a brilliant shade of red when he remembered the chest-rumbles from earlier. He wanted to hide his face in Kolivan’s shoulder but he knew that would only prove Lance right. The other boy’s answering smirk was enough of an answer to that, though.

“That’s not what the readings say~” Lance sung. Keith blinked. This time he did hide his face behind Kolivan’s hulking arm. 

_**Oh no.** _

“Oh, and uh, by the way…” Lance’s tone had changed from smug to sly. Keith almost didn’t answer.

“… yeah?”

“You won me 5 GACs, dude.”

Keith blinked. 

_What?_

He peeked over the broad arm between him and Lance. Kolivan offered a water pouch, which Keith accepted. He seemed to have the strength to hold it up on his own, at least. 

“What did I do this time?”

When Lance didn’t answer, just giving him this _satisfied_ smirk, Keith rolled his eyes. He took measured sips of his water pouch before deciding it was okay to drink bigger gulps. He was in the middle of taking such a gulp when—

“You purred.”

_Mistakes were made._

_Mistakes were very much made._

That’s what ran through his head as Keith snorted up the water and was stuck coughing it out before he could die from Lance’s stupidity. He could hear the boy laughing hysterically as Kolivan pat his back, helping him clear his airways so he could _breathe_. It didn’t take more than a few pats, and by the end of it, Keith raised a betrayed glare Lance’s way. Kolivan coupled it with a growl of his own, as if Keith’s misgivings were a slight against him. Lance seemed too far gone to care.

“Y-y-your _reaction_. Oh my _God_ , Keith!” 

“I can’t believe you bet on me!” He said, completely scandalised.

Still, from where he was curled up against Kolivan’s warm, rumbling chest, Keith saw tears bead at the corners of Lance’s eyes and slide down his face as mirth took control. Keith snorted. He figured he’d let Lance have this one. 

_Besides_ , he thought to himself, _Lance deserves a few laughs._

He strangely didn’t mind being the reason for it. 

~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~

All was still.

Cryochambers lined the sides of the room, all unlit save for one, closest to the door. Cool mists emanated from the viewing glass, giving the pod an ethereal appearance. 

All was still.

There was no guard, nor mice, to observe the room. There wasn’t even a camera.

All was still.

The pod’s captive – for that was what it was – stood frozen in place. A statue in all but name.

Its eyes flew open.

It smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter, Kolivan's just been cuddling Keith like a freaking teddy bear and I'm giggling so hard because neither of them really notice. 
> 
> And just.
> 
> Keith's trying so hard not to purr but it's too late. Lance already heard it happen chapters ago and he has no qualms about admitting it. 
> 
> I'm not feeling quite up to speed, if I'm honest. Sorry about the decline in quality in this chapter and how the characters seem a little OOC. I didn't know how to fix that for this chapter and really, this was just my way of tying up a few loose ends from earlier chapters so it wouldn't come up to haunt me later. 
> 
> Also, confession time: This chapter was supposed to be told from Lance's point of view, but a lot more of it worked better from Keith's perspective than Lance's and I didn't know how to seamlessly switch like some authors and I didn't wanna play around with something I didn't completely understand. 
> 
> In any case, it turned out alright. The chapter covered everything I wanted to cover in this. But there's one thing that might pop up in comments; Keith's connection with the red lion. He doesn't have a paladin's bond with the red lion like he used to, but he does have an awareness for it. Also, Red respects the fact that Keith's not trying to step on anyone's toes and take her as his lion again. it's a mutual respect sort of thing. That's really all I'd see as confusing in this chapter. I hope I didn't miss anything.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading. I hope y'all have a lovely day! ♥♥♥


	21. This Ain't The Clone Wars

“ _I can walk on my own!_ ” 

Allura picked Keith’s voice out of the hustle of the main hangar with an impressive amount of familiarity, given their prolonged period of parting. She felt her lips twitch upward despite the irritation she could feel coming from the red lion’s maw. It only took her a single dobosh to dodge past Matt, Pidge and Hunk as they performed the necessary tasks to settle in the Castle of Lions. It took some careful manoeuvring, given she’d changed into her dress for the occasion, but it was no more debilitating. 

She stood at the edge of the red lion’s ramp, looking up as a short figure wrapped in white stumbled down the slope. They lost their footing partway. Allura instinctively held her arms out, catching the person and holding them close. 

She blinked.

“Oh, Keith,” she said, taking in the light flush that overcame her friend’s face. She also noticed the apparent lack of proper clothing…

_Ah. So that is why…_

“H-hey, Allura— _woah_!” Keith’s face suddenly blanched and his knees gave out, forcing him to fall further into the embrace. Allura gave him a wry smile.

“Do you require assistance to you room? There should be proper clothing available for you.” She said, wholeheartedly expecting to carry the smaller being if she had to. Keith vehemently shook his head, much to her amusement. He looked as though he’d rather let the floor swallow him whole.

“Oh, so _you_ get to woo the princess in nothing but a toga, but _I_ have to carry your luggage. What am I? Your bellboy?” Lance’s voice snarked as he hauled two bags down with him and moved to the hangar’s exit. Keith merely slumped into Allura’s hold, hiding his face in her shoulder. From what she could see, Allura noted a return of the flush, this time spread up to his ears. She didn’t fight her grin.

“Shut up, Lance.” Keith mumbled from his place buried into her shoulder. He tried to move out of her hold, but his legs hadn’t quite gotten used to his full weight. Allura looked up and saw Kolivan step down from the ramp.

“Is he ready to accept assistance?” The Galra rebel said, an eyebrow cocked expectantly. Keith bristled.

“No, _he_ is not. I’m fine. I can do this myself.” As if to prove a point, Keith stumbled back out of Allura’s grasp on unsteady feet and stood as tall as his weakened body would let him; barely more than a hunch. His knees violently shook beneath him. Allura watched with some concern as he took a step toward the hangar doors. He didn’t fall.

Yet. 

Another two steps were what did him in. 

“ _Fuck._ ” Allura heard him hiss as he grasped the sheet – a _toga_? – tighter around him and tried to stand on his own. Kolivan let out what sounded like an exasperated sigh, then approached the downed human. 

“There is no shame in accepting help,” He lectured. “We are not in battle. Good health can only be reached if you let it be.”

“I’m not some little kid. I can _do_ this.” 

“You are only impeding your own recovery.”

“… is it an order?” Keith’s voice was laced with bitter resentment. His head was bowed, so Allura couldn’t see his face from where she stood. She could still taste his soured mood from there. 

“Must it be?” Kolivan responded without pause. 

“I’m not helpless.” Keith said in lieu of a response. His back shook with repressed emotion. Allura found it quite surprising, considering the notes Kolivan had sent her way soon after they’d boarded the red lion.

Perhaps his fire had not been completely snuffed out.

Somehow, it brought a wave of relief to Allura’s spirit. She could not imagine a reality containing Keith without his spitfire. Such a thought made her insides freeze.

“I know.” Kolivan’s voice was stoic, but held the briefest hints of acknowledgement, as a parent would to their young. 

Allura blinked.

_Quite the development…_

“I’m not weak.” Keith tried again, still not looking up. 

“I know.”

“…”

A beat passed where the only movement was the resident scientists in the other half of the hangar. 

Keith huffed. 

He threw an arm out and held it up in invitation, head still bowed. Kolivan took it for what it was and knelt down. The rebel leader swooped an arm under Keith’s outstretched one, his other arm sliding under crumpled knees. As if lifting a bundle of packaged air, Kolivan stood, clutching said bundle close. Allura narrowed her eyes in thought.

It had been a while since she’d seen a caretaker in action.

It was a humbling experience.

“Princess, would you do the honours?” Kolivan interrupted her thought process. She didn’t mind. 

“Right, of course. This way.”

It was with that practiced ease of weaving through the commotion near the entrance that Allura led Kolivan out into the hall, turning right, toward the elevator. It was during their time in the long corridor that Allura found herself walking alongside Kolivan, right by Keith’s head.

“I trust you are feeling better?” She aimed her question at her friend, raising her brow when he seemed to hesitate.

“I guess.” He said noncommittally. “Don’t think I’m about to burn out any time soon, at least.”

“Hmm…” Allura’s response was equally noncommittal. “I’d say it’s much better than before the black lion’s interference.” She said conversationally, as if the matter were light and jovial in nature. She watched for Keith’s reaction; noticed the flinch before it happened. There was a lull in conversation. It lasted until they reached the elevator, loading into it and moving toward higher levels.

“… is that why I can’t feel?” He muttered, knowing he didn’t have to strain his voice for those around him. Allura felt her heart clench. 

She’d hoped the fusion hadn’t altered him. It was foolish, considering all she knew of quintessence.

Still…

She’d hoped…

“Tell me about it.” She said, voice strong in the midst of her guilt; her failure. “Perhaps there is something in my father’s study—something that can reverse the effects.”

He hesitated in voicing his qualms. Allura didn’t begrudge him. She knew that the changing of one’s quintessence could be indicative of a change in personality or mindset. It just so happened that the black lion’s quintessence itself changed him somehow.

“I…it’s like everything’s muted. There’s flashes of emotion but… but it’s faint and… and it doesn’t stay for long. Like I’m running on empty.” He slumped against Kolivan’s chest. It was telling in how exhausted this ordeal had made him. It was telling of the trials he still had to face. Allura’s gaze fell to the floor. She sighed. For a moment, all she did was collect herself. Then, she met Kolivan’s gaze, who’d turned his attention to her some time after Keith had stopped talking.

She nodded.

Keith couldn’t be allowed to be kept in the dark. She knew this; observed the effects of such a fate within the cavities of the black lion’s mindscape. 

She couldn’t allow his flame to be snuffed out.

Not again.

“Keith, I think you ought to know—”

“I know about Shiro, Princess.” He interrupted. 

She didn’t mind.

“… oh.” She simply said, blinking as the elevator door opened. She stepped out, making room for Kolivan before joining his side on the way down the residence floor. “So you know he’s a clone.”

“I—what?”

Keith sounded as incredulous as she felt. “What?”

“I thought he was just dead.”

“Well, yes, I mean—” 

They stumbled over each other’s words, struggling to make sense of the situation. It wasn’t until Kolivan cleared his throat that Allura paused to look up. She blinked. He was giving her an expectant look as they’d stopped in a fork in the corridor.

“Ah. We go left, here.” She said. “Last door in the corridor.”

He turned wordlessly, moving down the corridor at a sedate pace so they could discuss this with minimal rush.

“So he’s not a robot?” Keith said, turning his head to look down at her. It was with a mild flash of amusement that Allura shook her head.

“No. We discovered that the one we all thought to be Shiro was really a clone. He’s been put in the detainment room until we know what to do with him.” 

“On ice?”

Allura’s lips unconsciously tilted upward. It seemed that humans had a saying for everything.

“Yes. ‘ _On ice_ ’ would be an apt term.”

Keith nodded, seemingly accepting the news. It was a far cry from his state in the mindscape, but she supposed that was to be expected, considering the circumstances. They neared the end of the hallway, where another fork in the path led to different training rooms. Kolivan stopped outside the last door, waiting for someone to open it. Allura was quick to oblige.

The room beyond hadn’t been touched by anyone but Coran, who’d seen to cleaning it once a movement. 

It was just as bare as Keith had left it. 

When the room’s owner had been set upon the sleeping bay, he looked up at Allura and Kolivan. He seemed to assess them for a moment before opening his mouth. 

“So… why exactly am I here?” He asked it as if he already knew the answer but wanted confirmation. Kolivan turned to her, instantly showing a chain of knowledge in this area. She was more than happy to oblige. 

“You’re needed here to fill in the role as the black lion’s paladin.” At his nod, Allura continued. “As well as to regain your strength.” She met his eye, finding nothing but a steady calm; so different to the fire. “I’m afraid that you cannot be allowed to leave the Castle for a while, yet.” 

She expected an explosion of fury; eyes ablaze with the prospect of containment. 

What she got was a mute widening of eyes and a shift into tamed acceptance. He nodded in ascent. 

She actually wished he’d yell at her. This docile behaviour is easier to work with than the stubbornness he showed in the hangar, but that was more preferable to… to _this_. 

“I am truly sorry, Keith. I—”

“It’s alright, Princess.” He shrugged. The displayed nonchalance buried the pain deep in her chest, causing her heart to feel as though it were writhing under the torment. “I understand.”

“Right. Of course.” She composed herself. There would be time later to fix what has been done. “I’ll leave you to your rest. Sleep well, Keith.”

He blinked at her, observing her for a moment more before giving a nod. She took it as her cue to leave, passing Kolivan a nod on the way out. He mirrored it. 

It was with a heavy heart that Allura strode forth; down the corridor, up the elevator, to the Castle’s library. She filled herself with a sense of purpose not unlike her will to rid the universe of the Empire’s control. She let this purpose fill her in places her fitful rests could not, empowering her stride and helping her strategise her next move. 

She had some reading to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! I'm back baby! Writing style is back to what it should be. 
> 
> Ok, so updates. I've kinda accidentally changed my sleeping schedule. I don't go to sleep at 5-6am anymore. I like pass out at 10pm and wake up at 3am and it's only at 6am that I feel like I can kinda type and even then it's hazy, hence, later chapters. it's not too bad. I won't really be missing any posts and at least now I'm at a schedule where I won't be late to one of my finals exams (which is at 8am pls kill me). I guess it's a good thing?
> 
> Aaaaa I really liked this chapter. I actually read it in Allura's voice when I gave it a once-over before posting. And Kolivan finally has real lines again! Woo! Oh man. We are going up in the world. And just-- lance. Corrupting Allura into calling it a toga. there really are miracles. 
> 
> Talking about miracles: Allura doesn't use anywhere _near_ as many italics as the other characters. She's a blessing. I swear. 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for being patient with this story and my weird posting times. I hope y'all have a lovely day!! ♥♥♥


	22. Wet Kitty, Grumpy Kitty, Little Ball Of Angst

“You are displeased.”

Keith didn’t react. 

He kept his face completely blank as milky water laced with Lance’s ‘beauty pack’ potions soaked into his skin; precious warmth seeped into his bones. He hadn’t known he was cold until now. It’d been a while since he’d felt cold at all. The water lapped against his bare shoulders as Kolivan lathered scented conditioning shampoo into his hair. He felt blissfully blank to the otherwise fierce embarrassment he’d normally be feeling by now. 

Needing help to bathe…

Damn _straight_ , he was ‘ _displeased_ ’. 

Pleasant tingles ran up his spine every time Kolivan’s claws lightly grazed his scalp. The trickling water had mixed with the layers of fur coating his leader’s hands, making them feel like warm velvet against his neck and shoulders. It was… _comforting_ , in a way, making him feel oddly sleepy. 

It was strange feeling this way in this floor’s communal bathroom, where anybody could wander by. He was sprawled out in the bathtub at the back. It was large enough for him to fit his whole sleeping bay and then some; sides lined with Lance’s beauty care products for his spa days. The only thing holding him up was one of Kolivan’s trunk-like arms looped around his shoulders, keeping his head above the water’s edge. Kolivan was mercifully kneeled outside of the tub. 

Keith was still reeling from the fact that Kolivan had bathed him earlier. He remembered that pit of complete _shame_ from before his emotions were dampened. He made a home in it. 

Or at least tried to…

Kolivan brushed a thumb over Keith’s ear, eliciting a relaxed sigh and a fluttering of eyelashes. Keith was nearly settled along the brink of sleep before he snapped out of it. 

_Fuck._

“Is this really necessary?” He hissed, trying to fight off the urge to list into Kolivan’s hand as the older Galra rubbed circles into his scalp. His breathing was slow, almost matching the even cadence rumbling nearby. Clenching and unclenching his numb hands did nothing to wake him; it just tired him out. 

“You need to be washed.” Was Kolivan’s response. Keith’s mouth tilted downwards into a frown. He huffed. Kolivan’s hand paused mid-stroke against the side of his neck. “Unless you’d prefer one of the paladins to bathe you in my stead.” 

Keith didn’t look up but he was sure that if he had, he’d certainly see Kolivan’s face tilted into an expectant expression, eyebrow raised and braid curiously dry. He just tried to breathe, forcing his mind into an alert state so he wouldn’t be as affect by seemingly affectionate touches. 

“… I just don’t like being touched.” He finally said, after a brief pause which Kolivan had given him to think. 

“I cannot leave you here to bathe yourself.” Kolivan reminded, his arm bracing Keith’s body tightening momentarily at the prospect. “You will drown.”

Keith wish he could say otherwise. He really did. The aching exhaustion which had caught up to him was beginning to nip at his heels, though, and he didn’t know how much longer he could even stay awake. At the thought of Allura, Coran or one of the paladins helping him through this—

Yeah, _no_. He’d take his chances. 

“This is fine.” He assented, minutely nodding his head. He still refused to look up, still refused to admit the truth of the matter; that human hands made him nervous. Kolivan must have noticed something on his mind as he continued his ministrations with an even lighter touch. Keith let his eyelids close but didn’t cave into sleep. His roiling mind wouldn’t let him.

He didn’t know why he felt safe in the _communal_ bathroom, being bathed by _somebody else_. He hadn’t felt this exposed in _years_ , so why did he feel…

Why did he feel like this was okay?

Why did he feel like there was nothing here that could hurt him?

This feeling of complete security… It’d been a very long time since he’d experienced it. 

_Not since his dad_ —

“Does this have anything to do with your life on Earth?” Kolivan’s voice broke him out of darker thoughts, only to plunge him into the remnants of mental agony. He opened his eyes, glancing up into solid yellow orbs. Keith’s heart beat painfully hard in his chest, hammering against his ribcage like a jackhammer. He found swallowing to be rather difficult, so he didn’t even try. Talking was out of the question. So he…

He nodded. 

Just once; a sharp incline of his head that confirmed his aversions and fears in one fell swoop. Oddly enough, the admission didn’t fill him with the need to close himself off. He wasn’t sure he even could, at this point. 

Kolivan didn’t press him after that. It was both a blessing and a curse; he knew the questions were coming, he just didn’t know _when_.

And there were always questions. 

Still, Kolivan remained silent in the still calm of the communal bathroom. Even when he had to rinse Keith’s hair out, the only indicator was a slight nudge to tilt his chin. Pretty soon, he was bundled up in fresh, oversized bath towels and his red lion slippers which he’d never used until now. He was perched on the edge on the freshly-drained tub while Kolivan dug through a bag Keith recognised belonging to Lance. He remembered it being in his room earlier but he hadn’t realised it being Lance’s until now. 

Apparently his clothes had been in there. 

Kolivan held up the articles of clothing like hairpin bombs, warily sniffing at them like a—

Keith blinked. 

_Okay, the ‘cat’ comments are making more sense._

Not that he’d ever admit it. 

Especially not to _Lance_. 

With a calming breath, Keith stood on shaking legs. It wasn’t as bad as when he’d first exited the red lion, but it was still prominent. Still, he held out a hand for his clothes, fully intending on putting his clothes on in a nearby stall. 

Keith wanted to maintain _some_ level of modesty, _thank you very much_. 

_What modesty?_ A very Pidge-like voice echoed in his mind. He nearly snorted derisively. 

Kolivan hesitated a moment, clothes still in-hand. There was a minor stare-off – one so short Keith nearly questioned if it even existed – before he finally handed the articles over, no fuss. Keith nodded in appreciation, making his way over to the closest changing stall on unsteady feet. 

As he went through the motions of putting on his clothes, the heavy feeling of exhaustion lightened somewhat; the familiarity of his Earth clothes were an energiser as much as they were a comfort. His legs grew less shaky and his hands went and passed the pins and needles stage. By the time he came out of the changing stall, he felt more like himself than he had in _ages_. Sure, he didn’t feel like he could safely go up against Zarkon – if there even _was_ a safe way – but he felt like he could go up against a level one training bot and _not_ get his ass handed to him. 

Progress.

Kolivan looked up from his task of repacking Lance’s bag. It looked like he’d just affixed the zipper when Keith finished. Kolivan gave him a once-over before nodding in approval. 

“The Princess was correct. Your strength returns with proximity.” He stood, shouldering the bag. Keith blinked. 

“Proximity?” He questioned, decidedly feeling some of his earlier spitfire flicker along the back of his hands and up his arms. He let it fuel him before being quelled by the void. It didn’t hit as hard as it should’ve; this feeling of emptiness. He almost anticipated it, anticipated the way it helped his thoughts sharpen and form in coherent whispers and strands. 

He thought it would scare him more. 

“The lions of Voltron have influence over your quintessence.” Kolivan said simply, as if it wasn’t life-altering news. “This will be taken into consideration in later missions.”

Keith nearly scoffed. From the way Allura had phrased it, she might not even _let_ him go on anymore Blade missions. He knew she was capable of keeping him here. Still, he kept that to himself. 

“Good to know.” He said instead, making sure to check his tone. He wasn’t in the mood for discussion. It went without saying that he wasn’t in the mood for anything, really. 

Kolivan just nodded and turned, leading the way out of the door. Keith let out a relieved sigh. He might not feel it, but he was glad he was allowed to walk. He wasn’t used to needing so much help to do anything and was already smarting about not carrying the bag that was obviously filled with his things. 

Keith swallowed his grievances and followed his leader. He didn’t care where he was being led as long as he was allowed to walk of his own volition. It was good to have the strength to do more than drink water or eat stew.

Even if that stew was amazing. 

Yes, he was planning on asking Hunk for more. Yes, he was hungry for more. No, he wasn’t planning on telling Kolivan and being motherhenned into submission.

There was only so much he could handle, especially now that he was aware of himself. 

He just hoped the others didn’t make it weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're gonna make it super weird. Like, so weird that by the end of it, he's gonna have a body pillow and an R2-D2 replica that actually serves drinks. 
> 
> (about the body pillow: yeah, man, idek. it's just a thing)
> 
> Ao3 wasn't working for me for like 4 hours. It took me about as long to troubleshoot and then it came to actual posting. This is late by MY standards and I am so sorry my people. I hope this chapter is good for y'all. I needed this. I was unashamedly giggling in the first part of the chapter. Guys, Grumpy Cat is back. He's kinda back. Not as back as he should be but he's there. I don't regret this chapter's title. 
> 
> Also I found out that it's not me being sick that makes writing difficult (being sick fuels my sadistic -- I mean WRITING -- muses). I get super moody and just kinda sit in a corner unwilling to do anything. It gets kinda bad. Thankfully, writing this chapter has helped me in that regard and has kinda steered the fic so that Keith actually gets the proper care he needs because I'm not really one for falling into the writing trap of "he's magically better because I wrote him that way". I mean, he could be. He really could, but like...
> 
> No.
> 
> That's not fun.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading today's installment. I hope y'all have a lovely day/snooze! See you tomorrow! ♥♥♥


	23. Food Heals The Soul

Hunk was fairly certain adding food goo to a stew was _illegal_ in this kitchen. 

He nearly cried watching Coran try it. 

“Okay, no. Coran, I gotta stop you. That’s not how you make stew.”

“What do you mean, Number Two? This looks perfectly edible!”

It looked like neon glowing sludge with pitted eyes and a gaping mouth.

Can blobs have teeth?

_This one had teeth._

“Coran, I’m gonna have to ask you to step _away_ from the ‘goo.” Hunk inserted his most commanding voice – which, admittedly, _wasn’t_ very strong – but it got him what he wanted (Coran’s safety) and that’s really all that mattered. “Okay. Now, as much as I hate to say this, we gotta scrap the stew.”

“Whatever for? It looks just like Grandpa Wimbelton’s Get-Well-Soon Stew! I’m sure Keith’s going to love it.”

See, now, this. 

_This._

This right here is why Hunk feels bad. Coran’s being nice and making something for Keith and Hunk didn’t want to get in the way of that—

The sludge started speaking in tongues…

Okay, yeah, no. Hunk didn’t feel bad, anymore.

“Coran, it can speak. It has _teeth_ and is _probably_ sentient. Keith won’t eat that, man.”

Coran, bless is soul, actually thought this one over. Hunk waited; he let the man think. In the meantime, he grabbed a nearby plate and started whacking the growing sludge before it got the idea to invade the kitchen. 

_It hissed._

Hunk made a ‘ _meep_ ’ sound, momentarily cowering behind his dinnerplate. He heard footsteps canter into the kitchen but didn’t look; the ‘goo was eyeing him up. It looked hungry.

Could ‘goo even _get_ hungry?

It didn’t matter. This one looked hungry. It latched a cord of gooey sludge around his arms and pulled him closer. Its mouth opened invitingly. Hunk didn’t want to accept. 

“Hunk? Are you okay?” Keith’s voice was hesitant but _very much welcome, thank you_. Hunk let out a whine; he didn’t think a saviour would come.

“Keith! Oh, thank God. Help! The ‘goo’s gone wild!” 

It was only after a pale arm darted around him with a familiar luxite knife, stabbing it deep into the sentient ‘goo until it hissed and steamed with fury and lost its hold on Hunk, that he remembered Keith was meant to be sick and recovering and _oh no I’m a horrible friend_. 

A grateful, horrible friend. He can’t believe he asked Keith to do that.

“Oh my God, Keith, I’m so glad you bailed me out but oh man oh man I am so sorry you’re meant to be resting and I can’t believe I asked you to—”

“Hunk”

“I am so sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I’ll make you cookies with this new recipe I was planning on trying but it’s okay I think I got the chocolate flavour down and you said you’re cool with chocolate and—” 

“Hunk, it’s fine.”

“Oh man, dude. The ‘goo was meant for you. Coran was gonna give it to you to make you feel better and I just asked you to kill it. I’m gonna have to bake Coran cookies too! They’ll have extra chocolate— _but what if Alteans are allergic to chocolate?_ —but that’s okay! I’ll check with Coran and Allura before I use it and—”

Hunk suddenly found himself silent as a thin torso collided with his broad chest, wiry arms encompassing his sides as far as they’d go. He instinctively wrapped his arms around the person cuddling into him. 

He blinked.

He meant—it was _nice_. Really, really nice. He _loved_ hugs—he didn’t expect it from _Keith_. 

This was nice.

It really was. 

Instantly, he felt his anxiety trickle down from an intense ‘ _oh man, I screwed up_ ’ to a dull ‘ _I think I can fix this. Maybe_ ’.

Keith must’ve heard his heart tumble into a steady, _safer_ rhythm from the way his head was right there above Hunk’s heart. He squeezed his thin arms around Hunk once, as if reassuring him that everything was fine, before pulling away. Hunk let him go; he felt _so_ much better, _thank you, Keith_.

“You alright?” Keith asked, looking up to make eye-contact. There was something a little off with the way the light caught his eyes; like they were completely devoid of life, sucking in the light like a matte void. Still, Hunk didn’t want to sour the mood. Keith had just woken up! He was probably hungry. 

“Am now! Thanks, Keith!” Hunk beamed. “How about I fix you something up?” When the sludge from the pot groaned, Keith’s hand darted out, stabbing it without breaking eye-contact. Hunk winced. “Preferably something without teeth?”

Keith nodded. “Sounds cool,” and went to sit at a nearby stool. Turning to follow with his eyes, in case he stumbled or needed extra help, Hunk noticed Kolivan standing watch in one of the corners.

Hunk gulped.

“U-uh, hey, Kolivan! You mind if I fix you something up as well? I’m always looking for more taste testers.” 

Kolivan didn’t even blink.

He just stared out into the world with his solid yellow _glowing_ eyes, tall and intimidating in every way imaginable. 

Hunk nearly ‘ _meep_ ’ed again. 

“Thank you, but no. I already ate on the way here.” At least he was nice to offer up a reason. He didn’t have to, Hunk knew Kolivan knew that. 

Aw, shucks. That means Kolivan was trying to be nice! Hunk could get on board with that.

“Well, alright. Just tell me if you need anything. I’m always happy to cook for friends!” Hunk turned around to start on Keith’s meal – something light but substantial. Something that wasn’t mutant food goo or its variants – but not so fast that he missed the blink and look of surprise that came over Kolivan’s features. He didn’t comment; it was a lot like dealing with Keith in that regard. You told them you were friends and then stuck by it. No need for explaining the ins and outs of how friendship worked. They’d figure it out in time. 

They had to. 

Keith had to be a paladin again.

Hunk wasn’t so blind as to miss that fact; Allura made sure they all knew the circumstances as soon as they came back two vargas ago. It had been an… _intense_ two vargas after that; everyone pushing to see how the Shiro they’d rescued had been a _clone_ , of all things. It was like the scene out of an old sci-fi movie from his grandparents’ childhoods. 

Then he remembered the black lion’s mindscape, and how they’d all been sucked in without warning, and how Keith had crumpled in on himself and tried to burn himself out. 

Sharp pain on his hand snapped him back to reality. He retracted it on instinct from the hot pot, hissing in surprise, not realising he’d let it brush the side. He blinked, trying to take in the bubbling mixtures at the bottom and not fall back into the pit of _oh God, Keith nearly died he nearly—there was screaming and he nearly_ —

“Hunk?” Keith’s wary voice brought him back to the present, but just barely. Hunk tried to root his heels in; tried to keep his head focussed on the _here_ and _now_. He reminded himself that Keith was _alive and on the mend_. He wasn’t great, he wasn’t at full strength, but he _would be_ and that was what mattered. 

He turned anyways, just to make sure his ears weren’t playing tricks on him.

“What’s up, bud? Food’s almost ready, in case you were wonderin’. It’s another stew; hope you don’t mind.” He kept his voice light, trying to ignore the flat, fireless look staring intently at him. He noticed Kolivan keeping watch as well but didn’t comment on that either. 

Allura would figure it out. She knew how the whole ‘ _quintessence fusion_ ’ thing worked. She could fix this. Hunk believed in her. 

“Uh…” Keith seemed to think twice about what he was going to say, eyes darting down in thought – _and it’d be all thought, now, huh. That’s kinda scary_ – before flickering back up. He shook his head. “It’s nothing. Sorry.”

“D’aww, don’t be. If you ever need to get something off your chest, I’m here for you, bud.” Hunk made sure to inject as much warmth as possible into his voice. Even if Keith wouldn’t be able to feel anything because of it, at least he’d know Hunk was still supportive, no matter the circumstances. In any case, he seemed to read the mood pretty well, nodding and granting Hunk a small smile in thanks. 

Hunk put the lid onto the pot so it could simmer on low heat for the last quarter of its cook-time. He’d just turned the heat down when he heard Pidge exclaim from the entrance.

“Keith! You’re up!”

“Uh, yeah. Hey, Pidge.” Keith didn’t sound upset. His voice was about as flat as earlier; as flat as his eyes. Still, it was open to conversation, or at least as much conversation Keith was usually up for. Hunk turned around out of curiosity. He didn’t need to do anything for the meal but wait for it to be finished, so he had time to kill. 

“Keith’s up?” That was Lance, poking his head in like the lurker he was. 

“Oh, man! He’s gonna _love_ this!” Oh, and there was Matt. He sounded excited from his place in the hallway, but Hunk couldn’t see him. Pidge audibly shushed both of them, waving her arms in some mock signal that the others apparently knew. They quieted down. Pidge cleared her throat.

“Okay! So, uh, Keith.”

“Pidge.” Keith nodded, mimicking the way Pidge had said his name. Hunk was so glad his sense of humor had stayed. Pidge cleared her throat again, adjusting her glasses and straightening her back. If Hunk didn’t know any better, he’d think she was nervous. 

Thankfully, Hunk _did_ know better. He _knew_ she was nervous. 

Then again, if _he_ were the one giving his friend a literal droid as a get-well-soon gift, he’d be nervous too. There were so many ways to interpret a gift like that. 

“Matt and I are super sorry about what happened earlier, with the interrogation and stressing you out.”

“Super sorry!” Matt chimed in from the hallway. Keith only blinked but didn’t get a chance to actually respond before Pidge was talking again.

“So, to make it up to you, we made you a little something.” Pidge adjusted her glasses again. That was apparently the signal because Lance and Matt wheeled in something that looked like a _dustbin_ with _wheels_ and—

“ _Oh my God, is that an R2-D2 replica drone?_ ” Hunk squealed, unable to keep the stars from his eyes. Pidge nodded enthusiastically. 

“Yup! And this baby’s Keith’s, now. It’s kinda like a maid,” She looked at Keith when she said this. “It’s in case you ever get hungry or need a distraction or something. We put every movie and song we could find from our Earth phones, and there’s a few games I coded.”

Keith was silent. He was staring at the drone with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape. Nobody knew how to take that. 

“Uh, so if you like it, I can boot it up now so we can put your biosignature in it, that way it can recognise you as its owner and—” Pidge cut off. Keith had stood up from his chair. Everybody waited with bated breath – except Kolivan, because, you know, he’s stoic – as he approached the drone. He put a hand on its head. Hunk saw Matt and Pidge throw each other worried glances before resorting to Lance, who only shrugged. Keith took a moment of silence. Then…

“Thank you.” 

Hunk’s heart actually broke. Keith’s head was tilted down so his bangs covered his expression from the room, back slightly hunched forward to keep his palm on the drone. His voice…

It was nothing more than an empty whisper. 

An empty, earnest whisper from an empty, earnest boy. 

Hunk saw Pidge gulp.

“I need to apologise.” She said, this time without the edge of nerves.

“You already did.” Was Keith’s response. “I forgive you.”

“No, but I—” Pidge stopped. “You what?”

“I forgive you.” 

“… oh.” Pidge blinked. Then she blinked again. Her eyes looked a little red from where Hunk stood. 

“I’ll tell you.” Keith said after silence settled throughout the room like a comforting veil. His voice didn’t shatter it, instead compounding the sense of comfort in the room. Hunk felt like he could relax. 

“Uh, what?” Pidge was confused. Hunk was, too, but he was more interested in how the energy in the room seemed palpable without any rising tensions. 

“Pierre. I’ll tell you. Just…” Keith’s hesitant pause narrowed Hunk’s attention. He tensed. “Just not now. Later. After we’ve dealt with Shiro.”

Pidge seemed to hesitate. She looked at Matt, who shared her sentiments.

“Keith, dude, you don’t have to say anything. We were in the wrong—”

“I want to.” He used no authority to cut in, but it still held the same power. “You guys were right. It’s not good to keep it in.” Keith turned his head to Pidge. “I trust you.”

Pidge gulped, her eyes ghosting over behind her glasses with what Hunk saw to be unshed tears. 

“I trust you, too.” She said, voice lowering to match Keith’s whisper. They shared eye-contact for a moment before Keith opened his arms; a clear invitation. 

Pidge didn’t decline. 

“D’aww, group hug!” Hunk cheered, coming in to share in the moment. His heart soared, even as it plummeted a second later at the flinch Keith seemed to have before leaning back into Hunk’s added weight. Lance came in, pulling Matt along. They stood like that for a moment. 

It was nice.

It was also _missing someone_.

He looked up at Kolivan. Kolivan looked back. 

Hunk re-thought his life choices.

Yes, Hunk was scared of him. Yes, he’d rather hide under a table than get the guy mad. No, that did _not_ excuse him from _group hugs_. 

“You too.” He said, extending an arm outward. Kolivan stood straight from where he was leaning on the wall, apparently taken aback.

“What?”

Hunk never thought he’d see the day he confounded _Kolivan_. First time for everything. 

“Group hug. You’re a part of this group.” He confidently declared, bolstered by the nods of those already in the group hug. Even Keith, who was usually so touch-shy, was practically melting from the love. 

“I don’t think that’s—” 

“Nope, not hearing it.” Hunk shook his head, gesturing for the Galran to come closer. “You helped Keith get better. You’re one of us, now.” 

Kolivan seemed to study the group from his position before taking slow and measured steps forward. He was a little awkward about it, approaching as if they were gonna peg eggs at him or something, but Hunk was patient. He could out-wait Keith; Kolivan was easy-mode compared to that.

Soon enough, Kolivan as next to Hunk, arms splayed out across Pidge, Matt and Lance’s backs as they huddled closer to Keith. Everyone glanced up to see if the other people were okay with the closeness. Once it was decided that everyone was set, they cuddled further. Well, everyone but Kolivan. He saw it happen and tried to match it. 

It was close enough. 

Close enough to apparently hear rumbles coming from the centre. 

Hunk blinked.

“Keith.” Lance said, voice completely serious. “Are you purring?”

The rumbles didn’t stop. They got _louder_.

“Yup.”

“You’re a cat, Keith.”

“Fuck off, Lance.”

“No, I mean it. You’re a housecat.”

“I’ll shit on your carpet.” Keith threatened. From there, Matt devolved into giggles that caused him to fold in and away from the group, followed closely by Lance. Kolivan must’ve taken this as a hint that the group hug was over as he retracted his arms and retreated back into his corner. 

It reminded Hunk painfully of Keith in those first few movements in the Castle. 

Hunk let his arms drop and stepped away. He noticed that Keith had to keep hold of Pidge as she held in her laughs, her mirth so strong it was making her shoulders quake. He also noticed—

_D’awwwwwww._

Hunk’s eyes filled with tears.

There was a smile on Keith’s face. 

It was a small thing, barely a tilt of his lips; a thin shadow detailing its existence. 

Still.

_Keith was smiling._

Yeah. Today was a good day. Today was great. 

He listened as Pidge managed to breathe through her giggles and shakily explain how to set up the droid; an explanation that was broken up several times from breathless chuckles every time Lance and Matt butt in with cat jokes. 

It was with a full heart that Hunk finished and dished up the stew for anyone who wanted it, setting the bowls down on the kitchen’s table. He watched the steam rise up before setting the spoons. 

Yeah. 

Today was a great day. 

~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~

Deep in the underbelly of the Castle of Lions, frost lined up the walls. It curled and weaved and climbed like poison ivy, decorating the room in haunting grooves. Blue light flickered from the lone activated pod. With each flicker, the darkness would last longer, and longer, and longer. 

The figure inside twitched. 

It could _move_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith is just a sweetheart. He's working purely off of what his brain is telling him his teammates need in order to feel better, and he's just doing it. He's so precious omg. He's probably talked to Lance about how #hugs calm Hunk down, too. Omg. Precious smol bean pls save me i'm gonna die from the #cute. 
> 
> Also, fun fact: Keith can kinda sense if something's going on with his teammates. Like, overworked thoughts or stress or whatever. He can tell it's happening. He doesn't know what it's about, but he can sense it, and sometimes, that's enough, as shown here when he's like "Hunk? uh, it's nothing. sorry." He could tell something WAS going on with Hunk, but it wasn't ANYMORE. Proximity with the lions = proximity with their paladins. It's like a headcanon of mine that they can lowkey read each other's minds. 
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. So much fun, I didn't notice how long it was getting until Keith started purring and then I realised I still had to start tying in the fic because this baby's ending soon. If I make next chapter really really really long, I'd probably be able to finish on 25 chapters. I'll think about it. Next chapter is where everything comes to a head, and chapter 25 is more an epilogue but not (it's weird. You'll see. I'll see. I haven't even come up with it, yet lmao). 
> 
> I really needed Hunk's positivity today. It was something I really really needed and I'm so glad the timing was right. I got the inspiration for this while I was cooking some stirfry and I wondered how Hunk would make it. He made a stew this chapter, but Keith decidedly likes Hunk's stews so that's fine. 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading today's installment! Now, if y'all don't mind, ima go read that _Breathe In_ fic by thegalrahobbitofplantetgalilfrey because they just posted another chapter just now I'm so happy. I hope y'all have a lovely day! ♥♥♥


	24. More Accidental Plot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're WELCOME. ♥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a discord so we can discuss stuff like Voltron and this fic and stuff. Hope someone joins. 
> 
> https://discord.gg/awxVjkh

Keith breathed. 

He took in the faint scents around him; berry-scented conditioning shampoo, warm flowers from the bathwater, the cool crystalline smell that permeated the whole Castle…

He took in another breath, trying to find the undertones—Ah. There it was.

Freshly washed fur… spice… _Kolivan_.

“How long have you been standing there?” Keith asked, eyes closed against the otherwise brilliant view of distant nebulae existing behind the cold observation deck’s windows. He felt completely at ease; something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Somewhere in the distance, he thought he could hear an enigmatic rumble wrapped in the cool embrace of Black’s quintessence.

He nearly smiled.

“Not long.” His leader replied; voice underlined with a battle worn growl. Keith nodded, finally choosing to open his eyes. Beyond the glass was a particular nebula that looked like Christmas had come and threw up across this galaxy. Keith turned around before the bright festive colours could give him a migraine. 

“What’s up?” He asked, taking in Kolivan’s hulking form filling the entryway. The larger Galra took this as an invitation to enter. Keith didn’t mind the company. Kolivan seemed to read this right, as he stood within arm’s length. 

“We’ve received word of Lotor’s recent activities.” His leader reported. “He’s stationed himself in what remains of Daibazaal, though we don’t have inside eyes to report developments.”

Keith hummed, eyes darting down in thought. “He’s up to something.”

“My thoughts, exactly.” Kolivan agreed. “We have yet to format an infiltration team.”

“Understood.” Keith let his gaze flick up, showing what was considered proper respect in Galran terms. Kolivan put his colossal hand on Keith’s shoulder, interrupting him mid-movement. Keith gave him a quizzical look, head tilted to one side. 

“There’s no need for that.” Was all the Galra said. It took a moment of deliberation…

Keith’s eyes widened. He took a step back, dislodging the hand he’d had the _gall_ to find _comforting_.

“You’re kicking me out of the Blade.” He said, the embers of betrayal amassing in the pit of his full stomach. He suddenly wanted to empty it. Kolivan let his hand fall to his side but made no move to deny the comment.

“You are needed here, young one—”

“ _Bullshit!_ ” Keith knew he was walking on thin ice but—

 _No._

It didn’t matter.

Kolivan had already made up his mind.

“You said I had a place with the Blade.” His fists were shaking. Betrayal turned into anger, hot and sticky and roiling in his gut like a piece of bad sushi. It wasn’t as strong as he knew it could’ve been, had Black not robbed him of most of his emotions, but it was powerful enough to force him back; away from the _liar_ who said he could ever _belong_. “You said I could stay.”

“The Blade of Marmora will not require you to be a part of field missions from now on.” Kolivan declared. “Our work is too dangerous. We will not allow a paladin of Voltron to conduct missions better suited to our stealth teams.”

“That didn’t stop you before!” Keith snarled, pointing out the obvious flaw in this whole argument.

“That was before the black lion made its intentions clear.” 

Keith froze in place, quickfire arguments dying on his tongue. His head snapped to the side. There, standing in the doorway, filling the room with an ever-present regal ambiance, Allura met his gaze. Her face was hard, brokering no room for dispute.

Keith had plenty. 

“You can’t just stop me from going back.” He said, arms gesturing wildly out of a habit his time with the Blade hadn’t curbed. “You can’t just _keep_ me here.”

“I will if I must.” Allura met his smothered flames with power of her own, striding over to the Galra in her observation deck. “I will _not_ have Voltron weakened so close to our battle with Zarkon.” She stood by Kolivan, their union making a powerful front. “The black lion will not accept another paladin.”

Keith felt something inside him break. Just hearing those words—their _intent_ , to keep him here like some _prisoner_ —filled him with a dark rage he hadn’t felt since those first few days after his dad died. He struggled to keep his breathing steady; quick deep breaths a mockery of the patience Shiro had tried to teach him. He grit his teeth and looked away. There was nothing he could do or say that would change their minds; change the fact that they were ripping away his sense of stability and making him watch them burn it to ashes. 

He felt the fire flicker within him.

He let it stir.

“ _Fuck. You._ ” He spat, turning on his heel and making for the door. If either of them called out, he didn’t hear; he left with nothing more than an empty ache in his chest and a flame burning bitterly cold. 

~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~

“I cannot truly say I agree with your methods.” Kolivan confided, turning to his ally with one more regret than he’d wished for. 

“Neither do I.” Princess Allura’s features melted from their hardened form to something much softer; much sadder. “It is for the best. We cannot allow Keith to go on Blade missions and expect him to survive them all. He’s too important.” She said it as if she were trying to convince herself more than him. 

“I thought the black lion had muted his emotions. These appeared to be real.” Kolivan mused, reminded of his time in the kitchen with the human paladins. 

“I suspect they very well were. He must be fighting against the black lion’s influence. Not surprising, given his character.” She confirmed. 

“Have you found anything to reverse the effects?” he inquired. The Marmoran leader was disquieted. He remembered bathing the youngling; how there had been a distinct conflict between wanting to be self-sufficient and needing to be cared for. Kolivan had never seen a youngling shy from physical contact before, even those rescued from Haggar’s personal shipments. It filled him with a sense of dread that there was a species willing to impart that level of damage on one so young. 

Even the Galra weren’t that cruel. 

“My father’s studies have mentioned in several areas the effects of quintessence fusions. Unfortunately… none of them would apply to our circumstance.” The princess could not look him in the eye, as if she believed she’d failed him somehow. Kolivan did not understand the sentiment; Keith was not his youngling. However, if _Krolia_ were here…

Perhaps it would be best not to inform her.

“You said Keith was able to fight the black lion’s influence?” He prompted, wishing to steer the conversation to more productive ventures. Princess Allura instantly perked her head, no doubt taking hold of a new train of thought. 

“Yes. I noticed it before he left; his quintessence is shifting itself to what he knows it should be. I’ve never seen a non-Altean manipulate their own quintessence before…” The princess hummed. “I’m sure I haven’t exhausted all my sources. There are still other Alchemists who specialised in quintessence fusion and manipulation.”

“Perhaps it is best you should know.” Kolivan mused, tilting his head down to study the princess. She set her sights, seeming to hang onto his words with minimal effort.

“Know what?” Her tone was guarded. Kolivan appreciated the level of scrutiny. 

Smart girl.

“Keith’s great grandmother, on his mother’s side, was Altean.” 

Princess Allura’s face slackened into shock. She seemed to forget to breathe for a moment, taking a quick gasp when she realised her mistake.

“But that would mean—”

“Not all Alteans died with Altea’s demise.” Kolivan nodded. Horror washed over the princess’ face.

“And the druids… they…”

“All druids have some strain of Altean blood, yes.” He reached out an arm, steadying her so she wouldn’t topple. Kolivan was aware of how shocking the news would be to one who believed themselves alone in their kind. “But they are ultimately Galra in appearance and birth, trained as kits to become Haggar’s puppets.”

“Then it is _extremely_ fortunate the lions are rather protective of ours.” Princes Allura all but growled. Kolivan couldn’t agree more. 

“I must return to my post.” Kolivan said, sensing the conversation as over. The princess gave him a wane smile.

“Yes. I’d imagine the lions’ quintessence can restore so much before he requires proper care.” She let him go, nodding her head in respect. He reflected the sentiment; she was worthy of it. 

Kolivan let his feet take him to the elevator; watched his hand be directed down to the lowest floor’s button. He sighed. 

Of course he would be down there. 

The detainment room was no place for a youngling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was gonna make the chapter title funny but then I'm like "I used that for another chapter title in a different fic. Reusing them is like wearing the same nail polish twice in a row ew." so I changed it up to what REALLY happened. 
> 
> Accidental plot... Man it's really kicking my ass.
> 
> Now I gotta add a few more chapters to the deadline thing. We might end up going to 30 chapters, since Keith's gonna need some cuddles after everything's said and done and pacing is killing me right now. 
> 
> Sumkid, an amazing reviewer, and I had a debate and it got me thinking. What if Keith was actually FIGHTING the black lion's influence? What if that was the reason he could still feel some emotion but not others? He was feeling quite a bit of guilt and pain a few chapters back when Kolivan was carrying him to the red lion; AFTER the quintessence fusion. The whole altean thing was because HAS ANYONE SEEN WHAT KROLIA LOOKS LIKE? HAS ANYONE ELSE NOTICED THE EARS? SHE LOOKS LIKE A FREAKING SHADOW ELF FROM THE DRAGON PRINCE AND Y'ALL CAN'T TELL ME DIFFERENT. 
> 
> So, yeah. Alteans are basically space elves. If Lotor = Legolas, Krolia = Galadriel CONFIRMED. 
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed today's installment. Sorry about the added chapters because PACING but uh ye. Thanks for reading. I hope y'all have a lovely day!! ♥♥♥


	25. Whelp, He Ain't Gonna Be In Sick Keith Fic II

It felt like a fire had ignited within him.

It blazed, low and warm, steadily building in intensity beneath his uncomfortably chilled skin. Each breath felt like he was stoking a fresh flame; brilliant copper and deep red and scored with white smoke.

It _hurt_. 

He welcomed the pain like an old friend, cradling it close and willing it to grow stronger.

Keith pressed his forehead into the cool glass looking out into space, back turned on the pod that housed the unsuspecting clone with all its baggage of misplaced identity. He hadn’t even lasted five minutes before cracking, needing to turn his eyes from what was obviously Shiro’s _replacement_. 

As if Takashi Shirogane could ever be replaced. 

Just the thought brought forth a new wave of _nausea_ and _pain_ and a whole other level of _pissed off_. 

Keith let it ground him. 

At the edge of his peripheral, he heard movement coming from somewhere behind him; the elevator door opening and a shift in the air telling of a large figure moving through the new opening. No footsteps, no breath, no whisper tell-tale of baggy clothing. 

The faint scent of freshly washed fur and spice.

_Kolivan_. 

“Go away, Kolivan.” He said, not wanting to turn around. Keith kept his head pressed into the glass which was steadily growing warm under his skin. He wished it would stay cold, if only to help him think beyond the ache of _abandonment_. It made him feel pathetic, feeling this way. 

“The detainment room is not conducive to recovery.” The elder Galra had the nerve to say, after _kicking him out like trash_. Keith wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

Weren’t the Galra pragmatists? Why was he wasting his time on someone outside the Blade? 

Keith hoped it wasn’t because he felt _sorry_ for him. The thought alone made him want to break something. 

“Don’t bother.” Keith spat; words laced in battery acid. “Go waste your time with some other Galra. Preferably someone inside the Blade.” 

He knew it wasn’t fair; he was lashing out at the one person who’d sat by him this whole time, helping him heal as best he could considering the situation. Kolivan had been there – had grounded him – when it seemed like everything had been washed out like a tidal wave. 

_Still_.

The pain of being forced into a role he’d _never_ asked for, had never _wanted_ , at the expense of losing his place among half-bloods and Galra alike…

It was like losing a limb; unresponsive where the nerves should be. He suddenly understood what Shiro had meant whenever he’d look at his metallic arm, trying to explain the loss in intrinsic sensation that could never be truly mimicked by whatever Haggar had pushed onto him. 

“I understand our decision to cut you out of the Blade was distressing—” 

“You have _no idea_ what that decision meant to me.” Keith snarled, tearing his head from the glass in a bid to glare at the doorway. Sure enough, Kolivan lurked in the shadows, just beyond the light’s touch. He looked overall unphased by Keith’s outburst. Looking at the scarred face, Keith found out exactly what he wanted to break. 

_I wonder if it’d be harder than Iverson._

“It is still not wise to leave you skulking near the clone.” He was trying to derail the conversation. Keith could see it, and Kolivan saw that he could see it. It angered him to know that he was probably right. 

“I’ll leave when I feel like it. You’re not my leader, Kolivan.” Keith turned his head back to the glass with herculean strength, tearing his gaze from someone he’d come to _respect_. 

Kolivan sighed but didn’t push further, nor did he leave. Keith didn’t know if it was good or not. 

Still, he turned his back on the person who’d taken him in when he hadn’t had a place with Voltron, letting the gesture speak for itself in its finality.

It hurt; knowing everything was _temporary_. 

He’d really hoped it wasn’t true. He’d thought he’d found his place; his people. He thought he _belonged_ somewhere. 

Now, it was gone—

“ _KEITH!_ ” Kolivan _howled_. Keith whirled around; eyes wide with shock, with confusion. There, mere inches in front of him, Kolivan choked in pain. Keith’s breath caught.

There, sticking out of an obviously _cauterised_ wound, was a glowing purple hand. 

That was when the smell hit. 

Keith gagged on the scent of charred flesh and intestines, even as he dove forward to catch the wounded Galra. His mind whirled. Kolivan’s legs couldn’t hold the weight, bowed uselessly beneath him as Keith struggled to lay him down on his back. Even that didn’t seem to help ease the pain.

“Kolivan…” He struggled to make sense of his thoughts. Nothing would connect; his earlier rage-fuelled flames doused by liquid shock. He looked up, catching sight of that still-glowing hand that had dealt the blow. Connected to that hand, trailed up the altered arm, past a broad torso, an ugly smirk cut across a painfully familiar face. A sadistic gleam dotted dark pupils, telling Keith all he needed to know.

That _wasn’t_ Shiro. 

“You must flee.” Kolivan gasped as one hand clutched at his side, the other pushing at Keith’s torso in an attempt to spur him. He wouldn’t budge. 

“You should listen to him, Keith.” The _bodysnatcher_ sneered idly. “The detainment room isn’t conducive to recovery.” It seemed to take him in, scanning for injuries and ailments that could be used against him. Keith stiffened as it laughed, processing what it had just said. 

It had been _listening_. 

Placid horror trickled through him, warping and warming into something akin to the familiarity of unadulterated _fury_. Keith felt pieces of himself melt into this heat; pieces that had once been inhibited and chilled by whatever the black lion had forced on him. He beat back the feeling of _empty_ and _cold_ and replaced it with a need for _retribution_. 

From where he sat, he could hear every skip in Kolivan’s heartbeat; every stall. 

From there, he heard laboured breathing accent it. The tempo sped up.

He felt it stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was either Kolivan or Keith and SharkLanceStan said Keith's not allowed to die (he's right, btw. Tag says HAPPY ENDING so our boi Keith gotta live). 
> 
> RIP Kolivan. _#HeDeservedBetter_
> 
> I mean, at least he did his job in helping Keith get his emotions back. He really did take one for the team. 
> 
> Also, someone pls insert the song "I just died in your arms tonight" because oh my god so apt. 
> 
> Ok, so, this chapter is SUPER late. I went shopping with my mum (it was an all-day thing and holy shit this woman can SHOP) and then we went to a family dinner. It's nearly the time where my body just stops working and I pass out so I'm super glad I got this up today. I have the next part block-scened so at least I won't have to work as hard in terms of writing it up. I hope this translates into submitting it sooner but we'll have to see. 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading today's installment. I hope y'all have a lovely day! ♥♥♥


	26. You Thought Mario Kart Was Intense

It stopped.

Kolivan’s heartbeat—

_Keith struggled to breathe._

Kolivan’s heart stopped.

The parts of him that still felt Black’s influence whirred for a solution; anything to fix this.

_Kolivan can’t be dead—_

_**Twenty minutes.**_

The black lion told him ‘twenty minutes’. 

His brain half-remembered those rudimentary First Aid courses at the Garrison; how long the body could survive without oxygen, without a heartbeat, without _resuscitation_. 

Twenty minutes.

Looking down at the gaping hole in Kolivan’s side, Keith felt a desperate sense of _loss_ come over him. 

Twenty minutes.

He could work with this.

“Aw, what’s wrong? Did Keith let another one _leave him_?” The _clone_ mocked. It gave an exaggerated gasp, just like Shiro used to do whenever they’d play fight. Keith was struggling to discern between the two. “Tell me; how does it feel knowing everyone you ever love will die?”

The question was wreathed in innocence. It was said lightly, as if discussing the weather. 

The words made Keith feel sick. 

“Shut the fuck up.” He growled, standing from his kneeling position by Kolivan’s side. He had to deal with the threat. If his internal clock was right, he had _less_ than those precious twenty minutes to revive him. 

He just had to ignore whatever this thing said to him.

Like that _ever_ worked. 

It was in that moment Keith realised how screwed he was. 

“Come on, Keith. I was just messing around. It’s not like anyone’s ever given you the time of day to ever feel _important_.” The clone’s face twisted into a cruel smirk, knowing how those words paired with that voice and face affected him. 

Keith swore he felt something in him die. 

He pushed it aside the same way he’d always done; by lashing out. He summoned the red paladin’s bayard with that same practiced ease, distantly hoping Lance wasn’t on the training deck. It was only a split second of staring this _thing_ directly in the eye, looking deep into orbs that caught the light wrong. It was all he needed.

Keith strafed directly at it, taking on that head-on approach he knew would only last so long if the clone had Shiro’s memories. They locked into a stalemate pretty quick; glowing arm grabbing hold of his bayard’s blade and keeping him close. Those familiar-yet-not eyes trailed over his face, as if searching for something. 

“It’s crazy,” It said, strangely breathless. Keith fought to free his sword. He succeeded, creating some distance between them before striking again, this time from the side. He met similar resistance.

“What’s crazy?” He said in an effort to create a distraction. Some part of him wondered if it was such a good idea to be giving his opponent ground to stand on, even if it was verbally. The clone seemed to agree, if the rough pull into a similar hold to earlier was any indication. Their faces were only inches apart. That same searching look took over. They settled on something below Keith’s eyes.

“Everything is telling me to _just kill you_ …but…” It stared at that thing below Keith’s eyes. He had no idea what it was going on about.

“So why don’t you just get it over with?” Keith challenged, struggling to dislodge his blade and get into a better stance. Being held chest-to-chest with you opponent wasn’t ideal when your ally was lying dead behind you—

The clone laughed. It was bitter and cold and everything Shiro _wasn’t_. It gave him enough pause to focus wholly on it. 

Was it just him, or was its face _slightly_ closer than it used to be?

“Let me—” _go_ , his brain finished for him, as the clone’s face came so close they were now touching—

No.

_Kissing._

What. The. _Fuck._

In a knee-jerk reaction, Keith brought his leg up, slamming it into its crotch with what strength he could muster. Keith cursed how his body was still a little shaky; recovery coming slower that he’d have liked. Still, he attributed some of those tremors to what just happened, especially as the clone staggered back, releasing his blade, looking at him with that disgustingly satisfied smirk he’d only ever seen in his memories of _Pierre_. 

That feeling of wanting to be sick was overshadowed by the pressing urgency to save Kolivan. 

He gave himself ten minutes. At least then, he knew he’d be able to make it in time. 

Ten minutes. 

He could work with that. 

_He had to_.

“You’re sick.” Keith spat, wiping his lips with the edge of his jacket sleeve. He ignored the faint taste of blood that seemed to linger long after he’d smeared them. He spat again, but it didn’t fade. 

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Those words froze him where he stood. He could remember only one other person say that to him.

No…

“I don’t want to have to kill you, Keith.”

_No._

“Let me deal with the others. We can leave this place. Voltron won’t matter, anymore.”

He tried to bury his thoughts in Black’s cool rationality, but they were coated with too much raw emotion to smother. It left him wishing he was someone else; someone who could differentiate between the real and fake, someone who could ignore the words being warped into his head by cruel lips. 

He wished this fucker would just _shut up_.

_Eight minutes…_

“ _I’ll never abandon them._ ” Keith let his voice drop into a guttural growl, squaring his shoulders as he gave up trying to rely on the _emptiness_ that had pervaded him these past few quintants. He was losing time.

“It’s obvious they’ve already abandoned _you_.”

He didn’t supress the pain and _rage_ those words made him feel. 

“ ** _Liar!_** ” He lashed out, jabbing and slashing and parrying with a heated intensity he’d almost forgotten from his early days on the team. 

The clone met every strike head-on.

“You know it’s the truth.” It taunted, the words bouncing around in his skull until it felt like exploding. It tried to hold him close again; Keith danced out of the way just like he’d seen Lance do that one training session. He turned the move around, using the momentum of the spin to slash upward. It caught it at its hip, keeping it there as it made another play for him. Keith shrunk the bayard to its dormant form, too small for it to grab, then dodged to the side. He reactivated it once he got his footing. 

_Six minutes…_

Keith knew he was cutting it close, even _with_ the timer cut in half. His strength seemed to be giving out on him; his bayard, when in full form, listed to the side. It tilted downward as its weight strained his tired muscles. 

“So that’s what he meant…” The clone murmured, shedding its combative stance into something more casual; something more dangerous. It came closer at a slow canter, a mere walk. “You’re weak; physically incapable of fighting back.” It let out a breathless chuckle, eyes gleaming in delight. It made Keith’s skin crawl. “I should have seen it sooner.” 

_Five minutes._

Five minutes before his deadline was up. He had to think of something. 

“Why do you want me?” He blurted, hoping beyond hope that this was a safe distraction. Experience told him he was being stupid. 

It always worked for Lance.

Sure enough, the clone stopped, a mere yard between them. It seemed to actually take the question into consideration. 

_Where are the others? Shouldn’t there have been an alarm for this sort of thing?_

“These memories… I know they’re not mine. I know I’m not truly Shiro.” It said, a mere whisper in the air. Keith struggled to keep his sword upright. He didn’t have the luxury of backup. 

He couldn’t mess this one up. 

“A little late, don’t you think?” Keith quipped, earning himself another cold chuckle. The clone gave him something akin to a _fond_ smile.

It was like looking into a shark’s maw. 

“You’re a fighter, Keith. We could use someone like you on our side. We could—”

“You didn’t answer the question.” Keith remained firm. 

_Four minutes._

_Cutting it a little close._

Understatement of the year.

The clone sighed. 

“My answer won’t really matter, will it?” It asked it as if it already knew the answer. Keith held his breath. Curling dread wrapped around his torso. “You’ve already made up your mind—”

“No – _please_. I want to know.” He said it with complete conviction, feeling none of it. 

The clone bought it; hook, line and _sinker_. 

“I have this – this _desire_ – this _craving_ for strength.” It looked straight at him, seemingly seeing right _through_ him. Keith curbed his urge to shudder. “You have that strength, Keith.” Its breath shook on exhale, turning into a warped laugh that filled him with a fear he’d thought he’d overcome. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted. All I can _remember_ wanting, in every. Single. Way. Possible—”

“You don’t know what you want.” His denial was wrenched out of him, laced with painful emotions he tried to squash. The deep-seated need to _flee_ , to _protect what’s left_ threw him off his game. It took the strength out of him; sword clattering to his side with fingers barely able to keep hold. 

The clone could see that. It pressed further on now-visible buttons. 

“I want you, Keith.” It said his name like a hymn, soft and fragile and everything it needed to break him. 

It gave him everything he needed to fight back. 

“Well, I don’t want you.” He said, voice equally soft. 

_Three minutes._

He saw the instant his words hit; dark eyes widening, mouth open in shocked hurt, features shifting into the minute traces of betrayal. 

_Bingo._

“Telling me I _mean_ something… expecting me to _need_ your approval or _affections_ ,” Keith snorted. “I don’t need you to tell me I’m special. Not from a clone who’s only memories were _stolen_ and _twisted_ into something they weren’t.”

Keith knew he had to put the last nail in. He knew this coffin was nearly shut, but the words got stuck in his throat.

He never thought he’d abuse another’s emotions this way. 

He never thought he’d have to. 

“I don’t want you.” He finished, tightening his hold on his bayard and summoning the strength to _end_ this.

The clone’s head bowed, its whole frame slouching into something akin to defeat. 

It laughed. 

It was a bitter thing, small and fragile and scattered. 

Keith breathed deep one last time. 

Then it struck. 

A glowing hand darted forward, nearly nicking him in the shoulder. He barely deflected it, having to dodge the powerful strike as the flesh hand aimed for his solar plexus. The prior hold-and-keep-close was discarded for wild brutality. Keith dimly realised between dodging and deflecting that he was facing the _Champion_ and not the whimsical clone who’d just bared its heart out to him.

Cold chuckles were swapped for pained snarls; kisses for feral bites. 

Keith could honestly say he didn’t mind the change. 

It was easier to fight an opponent who actually _fought back_.

_One minute._

He had less than sixty seconds. He had to end this. He had to—

“ _Oof—_ ” He grunted as his legs were swept from underneath him. He landed painfully on his back, the sheath containing his mother’s blade digging into him. The hilt stick out from his side. He sorely hoped the clone wouldn’t use it against him. 

He yelped as the purple hand came down, having to use the bayard in a right-handed block as his left hand tried to provide support. The hand was coming closer to his face. He felt the heat scorch deep into his skin, baking smooth flesh like a sunburn. He grunted. 

It laughed at his plight.

“Just give in, Keith.” It growled. “Give in. Nobody wants you around, anymore. It’s okay to let go.”

Tears welled at the corners of Keith’s eyes, hot and prickly. He felt a desperation claw up through his oesophagus. He was pretty sure his last minute was up. He was pretty sure he’d just failed Kolivan and now he couldn’t even live. 

Kolivan’s sacrifice was going to be in _vain_ —

No. 

It wasn’t a sacrifice. Not yet. 

The ten minute timer was a guide. It didn’t mean his time was up. 

There was still _time_.

All at once, Keith felt his gritted teeth sharpen in his mouth, eyesight following suit. Everything seemed much clearer and a strength he’d all but forgotten took control of his shaking limbs. A snarl ripped through his throat. 

“ _I’ll never give in._ ”

In that moment, everything slowed. Keith felt time shift and warp around him, the room and all its occupants greying out at the edges. He felt a power inside of him, one that had previously lain dormant, _burn_ as it spread through every limb. 

_Let go_ , it told him. Keith had a feeling it meant something different to the clone. 

He listened. 

Within him, the power gave strength to his limbs in which he could keep his bayard blocking with one hand. The other reached down; down to his mother’s blade. His eyes were tracked up to the base of the glowing arm that threatened to melt his face off.

He knew what it wanted him to do. 

A smooth motion. That was all it needed. 

A swift slice, and it was over. The clone’s body fell. He rolled out of the way before it could land on him, arm tossed somewhere to the side. 

Time seemed to return to normal. 

Keith kneeled there, keeled over his knees as his bayard slipped through numb fingers, clattering beside him. His mother’s blade was carefully slid back into its sheath; its brightly glowing sigil hidden from dotted vision. It was only a moment, he sat there. That moment was robbed from him when the elevator door opened, revealing what remained of the paladins of Voltron. They skid into the room, seemingly taking in what had happened. He thought he heard someone swear; he was pretty sure it was Pidge. 

He paid them no mind as he stumbled onto shaken legs, all but collapsing by Kolivan’s side. 

He still had time.

_He still had time._

He had to believe he still had time.

There was no alternative. 

“Allura.” He managed to choke out through his hoarse throat. His teeth felt strange in his mouth and his vision was too bright to look near the room’s entryway where the elevator lights blared in. He saw her kneel beside him out of the corner of his eye. He nodded to the felled Galra before him. “Can you heal him?”

He swore she was wasting precious _time_ when she placed a hand over his, right atop where Kolivan’s heart would be. He understood the gesture, even as she squeezed the limb in a show of support. 

“He can be saved. It hasn’t been twenty minutes. Isn’t there something you can _do_?” He couldn’t help the way his voice broke or the way salty tears began to leak from his eyes. “There’s gotta be something. Quintessence is life, right? There’s gotta be—there’s gotta be _something—_ ”

He couldn’t finish his own sentence. 

Why did he think he could save him?

_Why did Kolivan do that?_

“I’m sorry, Keith. I don’t know of any way to help him. It’s too late.” She sounded so _apologetic_. But he didn’t _need_ apologies. He needed to _fix_ this. 

He told Kolivan to _go away_. 

He didn’t mean like _this_.

He didn’t mean—

“ _No…_ ” 

_He didn’t mean it._

Slowly, he felt his senses dull back to what he’d remembered. The room seemed darker, now. His teeth fit right in his mouth. 

He felt bone-tired and it had nothing to do with the fight. 

He let the sob crawl up his throat; gave it a voice. The force of it bowed his head, forcing tears to fall directly on Kolivan’s arm. He forced himself to acknowledge his _failure_ , even as Allura’s other hand landed on his shoulder. He dimly heard the others mourning at a distance, but he couldn’t support them in the way he should. 

He couldn’t feel anything past the pain that rippled through his body in tandem with the waves of mental agony. 

He felt the stirrings of—

He felt—

_**Allow me.** _

Keith gasped. It felt like all of his emotions had dulled; not completely, but enough to think through the haze of _gone, gone, dead, loss_. He heard similar gasps of shock around him as pure _energy_ wrapped around him in dark wisps. He watched as red sparks flickered above the surface of his arms, floating up and dancing like those dragon videos he used to watch as a kid. 

“Keith—” Allura’s voice snapped his attention, locking his eyes on her similarly encased form of whitish-pink. He could see her features through the halo, as he could with all the other paladins when he chanced a glance. 

“What’s going on?” He said, energy seemed to be restored as he let the feeling of the black lion’s quintessence embrace him.

“You’ve… Keith, you’ve connected with the black lion.” She said, her face an expression of pure wonder. Before he could say anything, though, Lance came closer, pushing Hunk and Pidge toward them and sitting them down in a specific order; Pidge by Kolivan’s left arm, Hunk by his left leg. 

“Get in formation, everybody! Red’s got an idea!” Was the only explanation they got before he was nudging Allura to kneel by Kolivan’s right leg and was sitting by his right arm. He gave Keith a pointed look.

“I believe this is the part you take the head.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Keith almost socked him, but otherwise did as told. Black’s presence in his mind told him this was right, and to listen to Lance (as bad an idea as that sounded). 

Kneeling at Kolivan’s head, Keith felt the black lion’s energy take hold of his wrists, guiding him almost like a puppeteer.

He got an annoyed huff for that.

Fine. Like a patient teacher.

The annoyance faded. 

His hands clasped the sides of Kolivan’s head, as instructed by the omnipotent alien robot lion on the other side of the castle.

He swore he could hear Shiro – the _real_ Shiro – laugh at that, warm and bright. 

It made the burn on his face hurt that much less. 

_**Focus yourself, youngling.** _

He nearly smarted at the ‘youngling’ comment, but otherwise listened. He closed his eyes, knowing instinctively that the others did the same. 

He waited a moment, feeling around, bumping into the other paladins in the darkness as their minds seemed to connect. In the darkness, a familiar mindscape opened up around them. Kolivan’s body had followed them through, encased in a fading halo of tainted grey. Behind each of them was a lion of Voltron; Keith didn’t have to look behind him to know the black lion was with him. He felt a hand, flesh and bone and solid and warm, come to rest on his shoulder. He didn’t move. 

As one, their quintessence reached out into Kolivan’s battered form, seeking to heal and mend and stitch back to what _should be_. The lions’ energy coursed through them, guiding them through the impossible. He became them, they became him. His thoughts melded with theirs as quintessence mixed and meshed and turned him into something beyond himself. 

It turned them into something _more_. 

They fed themselves through Kolivan’s tainted quintessence, willing it to clear. Little by little, bit by bit, the greyed tint began to lighten. It turned into a pure white substance; cauterised wound long-since mended into what was now smooth skin, fur peeking through the hole in his armour. 

There wouldn’t even be a scar. 

The lions nudged them into separation, so now they were he, and her, and him and she and Keith felt the giddy rush of quintessence brush his mind, breaking the feel of a hand on his shoulder and wiping the mindscape from his vision, replacing it with the Castle of Lions’ detainment room. Keith felt a flush creep into his face, trying to catch his breath along with his friends as the effects of what they’d just done faded. 

He’d almost forgotten what they’d gone to do when Kolivan’s chest jerked up, a gasp of air greedily inhaled with a sense of urgency. Glazed golden eyes blinked up at him, hands lurching from their stationary positions to clutch at the newly-healed hole in Kolivan’s armour. He seemed in shock as gloved hands met soft fur. 

Keith didn’t blame him. 

He couldn’t really think of anything past the warmth in his gut and the pure _relief_ that it had _worked_ , whatever it was they’d done. The vestiges of his halo spluttered out of existence, turning into warm embers before fading out of view. Keith didn’t mind. 

He didn’t think anyone would mind if he just decided to take a nap right here—

He was out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who actually thought I'd killed Kolivan off for good:
> 
> _HAH! GOT 'IM!_
> 
> *sings _Trolololololol_ song*
> 
> I probably should've mentioned I'm a Disney fan. It would've saved y'all a lot of trouble yesterday when y'all be upset over Kolivan's VERY MUCH TEMPORARY death. 
> 
> I needed a reason to get Keith to battle it out. I'm sure you guys can forgive me. I mean, this IS technically the longest chapter in the fic (I think. It's 3500+ words long), so I'm pretty sure the scare was justified if it meant I wrote this mammoth as soon as I woke up today. 4 hours, people. Record time. Yes, I cried. This is glorious.
> 
> Also, did anyone else notice in the first episode of VLD, how Allura and Coran used YEARS instead of deca-phoebs? That's been bothering me since I rewatched it (for, like, the 20th time). 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading today's installment. I hope y'all have a lovely day! ♥♥♥


	27. Pidge Has Drugs

“What in the actual fuck did we just _do_?”

Pidge’s question was met with a series of equally bemused expressions, borderline awe as they repositioned Kolivan in the recovery position and Keith was whisked to the med bay for preliminary checks. On his way out Hunk had sent for Coran using the PA system Pidge had fully installed a couple phoebs ago, all the while cradling Keith close to his chest like a fragile snoozing kitten. 

Pidge doubted anyone will look at Keith the same way; not after the _purring_ – oh _God_. 

No, she wasn’t trying to hold back her laughs. She was a professional paladin of Voltron, _thank you very much_. 

“I believe,” Allura started, measured voice dissonant to the excited glimmer in her eye, “-we have successfully performed a quintessence fusion.” 

“You mean like what the black lion did with Keith?” Lance asked, holding down one of Kolivan’s large arms when the Galran rebel tried to blindly scratch at what used to be a gaping hole right through his side in a panic, as if he couldn’t believe it was healed. It had been established soon after Kolivan’s revival that he wasn’t completely cognizant to those around him. It was something that they’d felt Coran would have the most knowledge in. “Because I thought that was life-altering, or something.” 

Allura let loose a breathless chuckle, head dipping as if to hide her mirth. “Yes, I suppose this _does_ seem rather life-altering.”

_Life-altering_.

Pidge didn’t even bother to hide her snort. They’d brought Kolivan back from the _dead_. 

“Looks like I can take that off my bucket-list.” She murmured. Allura seemed to catch on, a ghost of a smile quirking her lips. There was a spark of recognition at the turn of phrase. 

“So, uh, does anyone know when it’ll be safe to move him?” Lance interjected when it seemed Kolivan had ceased his thrashing, muscles lax against the cool floor of the detainment room. 

A pile of bile and whatever Kolivan had eaten before going all Lion King down here was puddled just beside Lance, who didn’t even wrinkle his nose at the smell. It was a testament to how well-versed he was in taking care of people that he hadn’t even batted an eye when he’d helped Kolivan empty his stomach moments after revival.

“Hmm…” What the only answer he got in response. When Pidge checked, Galran eyes glowed dimly in a half-mast glaze, and the previously erratic heartbeat was steady beneath her fingertips. Just to be safe, she used a portable scanner she’d installed into her armor’s gauntlet to check Keith over if there had been another decline in his condition. 

It came back clean; no complications to an otherwise healthy Galran body.

The mind, on the other hand… 

“It looks like he’ll be safe to move. We should probably get him to the med bay. Coran can check him out.” As an afterthought, Pidge gestured to the unarmed clone snoozing by the busted detainment pod. “We should probably tie him up; chloroform him when he wakes.” 

Lance cracked up. 

“Do we even _have_ chloroform?”

Pidge ducked her head, decidedly looking _away_ from her mildly horrified teammate.

“That. Is. Terrifying.” He deadpanned.

“What is its use?” Allura asked. 

“It’s an organic compound,” Pidge explained. “It can daze or knock people out when consumed in small doses. You can use it to kidnap people.” 

“You say that as if you’ve never used it before.” Lance squinted at her. His accusing glare was warranted, granted. 

Pidge only smirked.

“Right! I believe I have a solution!” Allura chimed. She looked so happy as she leapt to her feet and padded her way to the clone, kneeling as if she didn’t expect it to pop up screaming ‘ _its-a me! Mario!_ ’

Pidge meant—it _didn’t_ —but it _could’ve_ happened. 

Allura spent maybe half a tick with a hand hovering over its fallen form; the only form of visible hesitation. Again, it was only for half a tick, before her fingertips were aglow with the whitish glow of her rose quartz quintessence. The light filled the space between fingers and a laxed face, caressing rough skin with the tenderness only Allura could ever emit. By the time the last of the light faded from sight, Pidge and Lance were blinking themselves out of a soft daze the display had put them through. 

It felt like a warm hug from her mom, Pidge mused. 

“That was beautiful, Allura. Ten out of ten.” Lance complimented. 

“You have no idea what she just did.” Pidge pointed out.

“Dude, way to call me out.”

“You’re welcome.”

Their banter halted as Allura rose from her knelt position. She gave them a small assuring smile, as if she _hadn’t_ just performed a space hypno-spell. Pidge could appreciate the professionalism. 

“That Altean sleep spell should keep the clone unconscious for a few vargas; just long enough to format a new plan. I’m sure you and Hunk will enjoy tinkering with that arm, Pidge.” 

At the mention of her name, Pidge perked her head. She spared the metallic arm a flicker of a glance before nodding. “I’m your girl.”

“Excellent. I suppose that leaves us to tend to Kolivan.” Allura gave the downed Galra a considering look, before seeming to come to a solution. “I can carry him. You two will need to access the panels, though.”

“You can count on me, Princess.” Lance flashed a winning smile, flicking out the finger guns as his entire form _sparkled_. 

Pidge gagged. 

Allura deserved an award; she only gave Lance a kind smile and a respectful nod before gathering Kolivan in her arms and—

Pidge blinked.

She actually picked him up. _Bridal style_. Like Kolivan was some fairy tale damsel in distress swooning from the big bad dragon in the background. 

Without thinking, Pidge took out her space phone and snapped the shot from several angles, much to Lance’s forcefully hushed amusement. 

Allura didn’t even blink. 

Pidge nearly wept.

Allura deserved an _award_. Gold star sticker. _Something_. 

Pidge was sure anybody who was anybody would agree; Princess Allura of Altea was an _icon_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kinda dying from over-stimulation. 
> 
> My grandparents and my mother were talking really loudly in our native tongue, and here I am trying to write in English. I actually broke a few hours ago and complained to my grandmother "My internal google-translate is broken" and she actually understood what that meant, despite having said it in English. I don't know why I'm surprised. Well, anyways, all the lights were on, and the tv was blaring something in Serbian (I think) -- which isn't my family's native tongue, btw -- and someone was playing music in the background. I also think there was somebody's wristwatch going off but it was an undercurrent to the noise noise noise. 
> 
> Needless to say, I'm a bit frazzled. ಠ_ಠ
> 
> If that showed in my writing today, I am so sorry. 
> 
> I'm sorry for the late update, too. Ima nurse this migraine after this. Maybe have a snooze. 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading today's installment. I hope y'all have a good day! ♥♥♥


	28. Ohana Means Family, And Family Means Nobody Gets Left Behind Or Forgotten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a discord so we can discuss stuff like Voltron and this fic and stuff. Hope someone joins. 
> 
> https://discord.gg/awxVjkh

Keith felt warm. 

Not the feverish tremors that once crawled across his skin in blazing wildfires.

No; this was a soft warmth, swelling beneath the skin and making each limb – each finger and toe and hand and foot and arm and leg – feel lighter than air and heavy as lead all at once. The surface beneath him was hard and cold against his back but otherwise dusted and powdered against him like bags of flour.

He drifted in this in-between state; simultaneously floating and pinned to the floor by his own body. A presence washed over him, soothing the constant burning on his right cheek, lulling him further into a state of complacency. The presence demanded respect. It commanded patience. It was cool and steady against the small flame within him, willing him to burn bright but not out of control. It didn’t threaten to douse him. 

Not again.

_Black…_

The black lion’s presence steadied him against the dissonance between his mind and his body, bringing his consciousness closer to the surface; close enough to feel chilled skin – _knuckles_ , his mind supplies – lightly graze against the burn on his right cheek. His will to see who caressed him so tenderly was vetoed by the sheer weight keeping his eyelids closed. 

He felt exposed in more ways than he was ever comfortable with. 

Anxiety bubbled in his gut, constricting his lungs; forcing him to let all of the air in his lungs empty in one desperate puff. It threatened to douse the fragile flame within him; threatened to leave him cold in this painfully vulnerable state, weakened by his own choices. 

Getting bathed by Kolivan was one thing; being touched when he wasn’t even able to see who it was—

He couldn’t even _smell_ them, as awkward as that sounded. The touch was too light, making it hard to tell if he even knew who it belonged to. He didn’t even know anybody who’d think about touching his face—

“Keith, you with me, bud?” 

All at once, the anxiety stuttered out of existence, as if it hadn’t been there to start with. Breathing came in short bursts; still better than before. The relief was downright _crippling_. 

_Shiro…_

“That’s right. It’s me. It’s Shiro. You’re in the black lion’s mindscape.” His tone was soothing, just like the hand that hadn’t stopped its feather-light touches against his jaw. It gave Keith something to focus on; something to ground him. Now that he knew where he was, being bereft of his sense of smell made more sense.

With each tick that passed, another inch of awareness crawled along his body. Soon he was able to feel all the way down to his fingertips; to the dust caking under his nails. He jerked at the muscles along his wrists, feeling the corresponding twitch. 

“That’s good. You’re already recovering.” The relief colouring Shiro’s voice was palpable; encouraging. Keith tried to move his lips, tried to form them into words and string them into sentences. Nothing came through but soft whistles. 

“That’s alright. You don’t need to talk. I’m pretty sure you deserve the break.” Shiro sounded like he wanted to chuckle.

Or cry.

Keith could never tell without facial expressions with that tone. 

“I’m not crying, just impressed.” The hand, warm from exposure, tapped his cheek twice. The burn smarted. The hand hesitated at the brief prick of pain that travelled up to his brain, only coming back after it had settled. “Sorry. I keep forgetting that pain is a thing, here. I haven’t felt it since battling Zarkon…”

Interest peaked; Keith felt his own eyelashes flutter against the curves of his cheeks. 

Shiro had promised to tell him everything. Battling Zarkon? 

Seemed like a good start. 

Shiro chuckled. The sound was bright and warm to Keith’s cotton-filled ears. It was a balm to the grating fear that had lingered long after the battle with the clone. He let himself indulge in the sound, however brief it was. 

It was nice. 

“I guess I did promise to tell you everything. So, battling Zarkon…”

There was a deliberate pause. One Keith would’ve used as an opportunity to elbow the older male if he’d full control of his body. From somewhere above him, Shiro snorted. 

“Alright, young padawan. You win. In that last fight against Zarkon, we battled it out in this mindscape for the black lion. You can probably guess who won.” The black lion’s presence accented Shiro’s silhouette in Keith’s mind’s eye, rimmed in purple and on his right. Keith took that as its answer.

“Right, so when my body disintegrated from that last attack, the black lion took hold of my soul, trapping it here,” Shiro’s silhouette gestured around for a tick before hesitating, seeming to realise Keith couldn’t actually _see_. He felt his lips curl up at the edges; he could tell what Shiro meant just fine. 

“Right… well, I’ve just been here this whole time. I asked the black lion to choose you, Keith. I asked it to have you as its next black paladin. I didn’t expect it to bond with you—err not like this, at least.” Shiro seemed to cringe at his own words, pulling a hand up to rub the base of his neck. “Looks like it’s not gonna let you go, anymore. I’m sorry. I know how much you enjoy freedom.” 

Keith couldn’t be mad; not even a little. In place of what would otherwise be an inferno, there was a soft contentment burrowing into place under his heart. Everything was settling down. After all that pain and confusion…

“I know, buddy.” Shiro seemed to share the sentiments. He cupped Keith’s left cheek; thumb wiping away a stray drop of moisture. Keith didn’t know if it was sweat or tears. Frankly, he didn’t care. 

He trusted Shiro. He knew that _his_ Shiro – his _brother_ – would never hurt him. Not on purpose. 

Never on purpose.

Sounds began to tickle at his ears, seeping through the clotted cotton feeling in his eardrums. Breathing became a little more arduous; gulping lungful’s instead of steady circulation. There was a strange quality to it, as if there was salt and sugar and syrup in the air. 

He felt his stomach give a greedy grumble. 

Shiro’s resounding chuckle felt like a distant dream as that hand travelled up, giving his hair a fond ruffle.

“You’re waking up, Keith.” He said, voice fading with every word. Keith almost didn’t want to go. “I’m so proud of you. You survived. You’re going to be a great leader.”

_So why did it feel like ‘good-bye’?_

The thought was idle; a whisper in the mental wind that curled and expanded, tethering him to a reality where Shiro was dead, where a clone had taken his place, where he was no longer a Blade.

Where he was the leader of Voltron. 

The thought was enough to shock him into peeling back glued eyelids, hissing at too-bright lights and too-loud voices nearby. Sensations came on too strong, too much. Still, Keith adjusted about as well as he’d always done.

By not. 

“Keith’s awake!” Lance’s voice was too close. Keith flinched back at the sudden hand clapping his shoulder. Still, a familiar Cuban face had no problem getting up in his space. It was decorated by a strained expression, like the smile didn’t quite fit. Keith squinted. He cleared his throat a little, all to aware of what had happened in the mindscape. Finding nothing wrong, he opened his mouth.

“Did something happen?” He asked, pushing himself up onto his elbows and taking in what was unmistakably the med bay. He caught sight of Pidge and Allura, heads together by an occupied cryopod. They seemed to share uneasy looks but didn’t try to hide what was in the pod behind them. Keith’s breath caught in his throat.

It was the clone.

Dead.

“How—”

“His heart gave out shortly after we got Kolivan up here.” Lance explained; voice uncharacteristically quiet. The hand on his shoulder squeezed, comforting. “We couldn’t revive him. Not without your quintessence boost.”

A swell of confused hopelessness bubbled in his gut. It exploded a moment later, replaced by exasperation. 

“I was asleep for, like, _five doboshes_.” His voice cracked; he knew. No, he didn’t care.

He took his eyes off of them for—

“It was _two vargas_ , dude. You were all glowy and Allura said it was best to let your quintessence fill up at its own pace.” Lance _helpfully_ filled in. 

Keith let out another exasperated sigh, bringing up a sore hand – his right hand, the one he’d used to block the clone’s killing move – and massaging at what was already building to be a tension headache. 

Now he knew where Shiro got all those white hairs from. 

Ugh. He was gonna have a matching set, now, wasn’t he?

_Wait—_

“Where’s Kolivan?” He asked, remembering why he’d gotten mad enough to dismember Shiro’s fill-in. A coil of panic prickled in the pits of his stomach, remembering the way the wound had instantly cauterised around the metal arm. Lance was nice enough to shake his shoulder, dislodging the memory and letting it fade to the back of his mind. 

“On your left, Hotshot.” 

Keith followed the instruction, tipping his head in that direction until he caught sight of an occupied pallet similar to his own, set up with a multitude of medical equipment. He recognised one of the monitors on the side, beeping in time to what Keith suspected to be Kolivan’s heartbeat. He moved to the side of his pallet, attempting to stand. 

His knees buckled at the first hint of weight.

_Fuck._

Arms wound around his torso, keeping him upright. Keith caught a whiff of what he remembered to be Lance’s scented bath oils. He turned his head into the chest at his side, huffing his discontent. 

“Yeah, Mullet, I know. You’re tough; nobody’s gonna look at you any differently.” Lance reassured, bringing one of Keith’s arms around his shoulders so he could wrap one of his own around the hybrid’s waist. “Allura says it’s gonna take a while for your strength to return. You gotta take it easy.”

“I’m fine.” Keith rebutted, allowing himself to be helped as he leaned most of his weight on Lance. It wasn’t that he wanted to; his legs shook too much to be of any use. 

Looks like he was back to square one. 

As long as nobody else had to help him bathe…

“Actually,” Pidge’s voice piped up, now at Keith’s side. There was a beam of light from her wrist. Keith still didn’t know how she’d gotten past his guard. “Your quintessence is pretty low. It’s stable, but it could do with some time off.” 

“Perhaps a planet with plenty of flora and fauna. They’re abundant with quintessence.” Allura mused, at Pidge’s side. They escorted him to the edge of Kolivan’s pallet, where he peeled himself from Lance’s side and slouched himself on the soft bedding. Kolivan didn’t even stir. 

“As long as it doesn’t have any space catnip.” He said, warily glancing between his teammates; and they were teammates, again. That would take some getting used to. 

Life in the Blade was lonely.

Still, he felt he could live without the impish smirks Pidge and Lance traded at his suggestion. 

Even _Allura_ smiled.

“I assure you, Keith, we won’t be visiting Kamen any time soon. We may find ourselves resting on Arus, though.” She hummed. “It may be good to recover and reforge our bonds, there. It’s certainly sentimental.”

Keith didn’t hide the relief that flowed out alongside his sigh. It felt like a nervous tension uncoiled from between his shoulder blades, allowing him to truly relax for the first time in a while. 

“Sounds like a plan.” He said, giving the princess a small appreciative smile which she was happy to return. 

“Aw, man! Keith’s up! Why did nobody tell us?” Hunk’s voice broke the relaxed atmosphere that had settled between them, replacing it with one of warm companionship. Looking past Lance, Keith saw Matthew Holt and Coran trailing behind Hunk. All of them had platters of food balanced in their arms; more than enough to feed everyone, even if Kolivan was awake. 

“Good to see you up, my boy!” Coran chimed, moustache twitching as if the Altean ached to groom it.

“Yeah. We were pretty worried for a while, there.” Matt added, giving him the same look he’d seen on Pidge whenever they’d had bonding moments. 

There was a bubble of warmth settling in Keith’s gut. He was pretty sure it was…

It was joy. Happiness, his mind supplied. Warm and honey-sweet and bright and small and fragile, just like the fire that burned low within him. He knew it wasn’t in trouble of going out. 

Not anymore. 

“Thank you.” He said, nodding at Matt, then at Hunk and Coran. His eyes roamed Allura and Pidge and Lance. “All of you; thank you. I don’t think there’s enough words to explain how grateful I am.” He tried to inject as much sincerity into his words as possible. 

He knew it would never be enough. 

Without the efforts of all those in this room, he’d probably be dead, drowned in his own self-destructive quintessence in all its volatility. 

Kolivan would be dead, too. 

The thought actually sent a sliver of fear through him. A shift in the air around him – an energy he’d come to associate with the black lion – helped him breathe. It reminded him that he _hadn’t_ died, and that Kolivan was beside him, recovering from what was otherwise a fatal blow.

“You’re family, Keith.” Allura said, eyes glittering with unshed tears. “There is no need for thanks when we know you would do the same for us in a heartbeat.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. Keith didn’t mind the closeness; not from her. 

He knew she’d never hurt him. He saw her as family, too.

A _real_ family. 

He wasn’t alone, here. He wasn’t suffocating under the weight of his own guilt. 

_He was alive._

He meant – _Shiro_ was still technically dead, but he doubted the black lion would give his soul up that easily. Not after doing so much to get him in the mindscape. 

Looking at the clone’s body from the corner of his eye… 

…

He got an idea.

“Hey Allura…” He said, a smirk already painting what was undoubtedly a _terrible_ idea. She seemed to read his expression _perfectly_. 

“What did you have in mind?” Her eyes were narrowed, as if she expected the absolute _controversial_. 

_Well…_

She wasn’t _wrong_.

“Is it possible to implant Shiro – the real Shiro – into the clone’s body?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know this is late. You'll get another chapter later, when I figure out how I wanna end this. Probably gonna do it in Disney style. ¯\\_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_/¯
> 
> I'll figure it out later. This fic is actually gonna finish in time for me to attend my first finals exam (at 8am, 2 days from now. please end me. it's _Law_ ). No, i haven't studied. It's open-book and we're allowed to bring in lecture slides. Watch me win, guys. This is how your pass uni lmao. 
> 
> Back on track: I didn't know what I was doing for this chapter, guys. I restarted it like twice before figuring out where to even start. The I realised I needed Keith to have a visit with Shiro and THEN he had to be in position for Kolivan to wake up with him at his side. One thing led to another, and it turns out saving lives is exhausting, so now Keith has to deal with weak knees in Lance's presence (save me I couldn't resist). 
> 
> Fun fact: Kamen in Macedonian means 'rock'. It was an accident, really. It had nothing to do with Kamen Rider. It fit, though. Kamen is similar to Earth, only with bigger plants and a heavier atmosphere. 
> 
> Also, Kuron kinda needed to be evil here, so I didn't personally feel bad for rewriting his body over for #TheRealShiro™ so there's that. Might write an AU one day where he wasn't evil. It's close to the bottom of my list of priorities, though, so it might not happen for a while. 
> 
> Thank you guys for being so patient with me. We're nearly there. Nearly to the end. First multi-chapter fic ending ftw. *dabs* I hope y'all have a lovely day! ♥♥♥


	29. I Want To Be A Space Cat, Too

Kolivan was no stranger to discomfort. 

In his long life, there were many times where the back of his throat burned from the sting of gargled bile; the ache of his muscles as they threatened atrophy. His muscles felt stiff, to the point where it sat on the cusp of pain. Breathing was an awkward experience comprised of dry air currents constantly being blown into his mouth and snout, forcing him to either inhale or choke under the pressure. 

Kolivan was only able to let the process take him; his mind entrenched in the haze of mock anaesthesia. He thought his ears picked up monotonous chimes, just at his right, above his head. The surface beneath him was accommodating to his stiff body, warm and padded and curling around his form like a lover’s embrace. There was a distinct layer of disorientation between him and the world beyond shut eyelids, cloying and fraying at worn nerves. 

He thought he heard a youthful rumbling, just to his side. 

The instincts of a caregiver were intrinsic; not bound by lineage or relations. Any kit or youngling, if left unclaimed, were taken in and assimilated into the adoptive unit. They’d learn skills to care for the next generation, and the next after that. 

Not even the thralls of exhaustion would keep him from his ingrained duty. 

“ _Nnghh…_ ” Kolivan fought against the dissociation between his mind and body, trying to connect with his limbs and regain complete facial control. Slowly, memories trickled into the forefront of his mind; vivid images and scoring sensations melting through his _side_ —

His eyelids flew open, shocked by the intensity of what was undoubtedly phantom pain spindling up his spine. Fierce desires welled up within him; the urge to protect, defend, _kill_. They all masked a core desperation, rooted in fear. 

Fear for the youngling.

Fear for _Keith_.

He hadn’t expected to live through the experience, having used himself as a shield to provide ample distraction— _time_ —time for the child to get _away_.

 _The black lion will not accept another paladin_.

Princess Allura’s words were knives to an already downed kit, he knew. Especially to one so desperate for freedom. His actions had only served to coil the chains around the youngling, yet he didn’t feel remorse for them.

Even if his actions left him momentarily paralysed within his own skin, battling against the shock of finding himself alive; finding himself cradled in the padding of a resting pallet instead of the sudden fall of a cryogenic healing pod, chased by chills. In fact, he felt warm; fur clean and body unharmed. 

He briefly wondered if the last few quintants were nothing but a dream, despite the inability for Galra to experience sleep cycle visions. Focusing himself, breathing through the apparatus attached to his face, Kolivan determined that, no, this was not a dream. Physical sensations were far too prominent, phantom pains dissolving into dull muscle ache as cramps across his joints relaxed upon detection. 

When it seemed safe to do so, Kolivan reached up with a shaking hand, resting it against the apparatus hooked to his face. He felt along it, learning by touch alone if it was removable. 

It was. 

Without the dry air circulating against his mouth, Kolivan found breathing a strange affair, testing the free air with his snout and then an experimental inhale. 

It was clean.

 _Safe_.

The relief helped him to unconsciously awaken each and every limb in his body. Fur raised on end where the cool air touched, trapping warmth between every strand. His ears detected youthful rumbling – _purring_ , as the paladins had coined – by his side, just as he’d heard in his drowsed state. 

It was a soft sound, barely audible next to the monotonous tones by his head. Kolivan tilted his head, letting it loll against the pillow beneath him, catching sight of a mop of dark hair. 

_Hair, not fur…_

_Keith._

A tender rumble sounded from his chest, unbidden. It answered the youngling’s purrs, granting a comfort only caregivers could provide. Still, the youngling didn’t stir. Keith’s head leaned against the edge of the pallet, precariously close to tipping off the side. His body was curled on the ground, an arm reaching out, hand clasped to Kolivan’s in an almost possessive manner. 

The youngling must have come for comfort some time during Kolivan’s sleep cycle. 

The notion was so Galran, the rebel leader did not stop himself from once more lifting a trembling hand, turning his body on its side so he could rest the hand against Keith’s head. 

The youngling’s purrs deepened in tone. 

Kolivan knew; the gesture was appreciated. 

In a way, it only made his decision more painful. 

He knew grounding Keith from Blade missions was the only right thing to do, especially if the paladins of Voltron were to be a long-term factor in this war against the Empire, chosen by their lions who were more fickle than Zarkon’s progeny. He knew it was safer to have the youngling surrounded by those who would have the means of rescuing him on failed missions; a safety net when the scent of death became too much. 

Still…

He understood the betrayal that accompanied the youngling’s reaction. In many ways, this was but one way to banish Blades when their actions have become volatile to their mission. 

Kolivan was only grateful for the home the Altean Princess would provide for this one; the home she’d already given with welcome arms, made into a prison should the offer be rejected. 

Princess Allura of Altea was nothing if not tenacious. 

Kolivan had to blink as movement caught the fringes of his vision, pulling his focus away from the sleeping youngling by his side and instead to the red paladin holding his communications device in their direction. 

He blinked. 

The Human hadn’t taken notice of his actions being caught by the Galran, or perhaps he didn’t care. The paladin simply continued standing by the entryway clothed in strange garments Keith had explained to be from Earth. His hands did not shake as they held his personal device up. There was an almost secretive smile stretched across his face, held back only by the blunt teeth digging into soft flesh. 

Under Kolivan’s hand, Keith nuzzled his head into the warmth; youthful rumbles rolling into a soothing volume almost palpable in the room’s stillness. The red paladin seemed to chuckle from his place by the entryway. A moment later, the yellow paladin waltzed by, also in strange Earth garments. The darker-skinned male was quick to shoot his fellow paladin a disapproving frown.

“Lance, what are you doing?” The large Human asked. Kolivan could almost taste the familiar tang of exasperation rolling from his tone. The red paladin paid it no mind.

“Nothing,” was all he said, voice deceptively innocent despite his lurking status. It made the Galran rebel wish he had his sword on hand.

Fear always was a useful motivator. 

“You’re recording them, aren’t you?” The yellow paladin’s words caused all the fur on Kolivan’s body to raise on end, even the fur that had already been partially raised earlier. His eyes narrowed by a minuscule, as squinted as they already were under the dim overhang of fluorescence. 

This was not the first time Kolivan had wished for the druids’ power to shift through layers in this reality. Perhaps he would have then felt the bothersome long-ranged paladin in that realm for a time…

“Dude!” The yellow one’s voice broke his thoughts from their undoubtedly morbid affairs. “You can’t just _blackmail_ Keith!”

A protective growl broke from his throat, interrupting the pleasant vibrations that had warmed his chest. 

_Is this the work of petty children or true danger to the youngling?_

The red paladin, wincing under the new level of scrutiny, was quick to see the error of his ways—

“Blackmail is such a _strong_ word…”

Kolivan ceased his growling, replaced once more by the tentative trembles of a soothing caregiver. 

The yellow paladin sighed.

He could relate to the yellow one’s exasperation wholeheartedly. 

“Okay, _fine_.” The red one huffed as if _he_ were the one being incensed. “It’s for _prosperity_. ‘That float your boat?”

Kolivan was not familiar with the phrase, but he could assume it meant the red paladin was trying to validate his questionable moral compass with little more than sentiments. The yellow one seemed to agree.

“This is a breach in privacy, Lance. Look; Kolivan’s even awake.”

“Okay, _Spongebob_. It’s totally not like you hacked into the Blade of Marmora’s medical unit to spy on Keith, or anything.”

“Okay, first off: Not gay. Easy-bake oven was just a phase.” The yellow paladin held up a finger, as if to prove a point. He presented a second finger alongside it to demonstrate his next point. “Second, The Blade’s internal systems are ridiculously easy to hack into if you have the access codes. That’s not on me.”

“ _Just a phase_ , he says…” The red paladin’s voice came out as a mutter, still audible to the quietly purring Galra nestled within the room. Kolivan almost lamented how the two Humans were quick to forget his presence, or the fact that the youngling was asleep. He wanted to tell them, himself, if only he’d the strength…

“At least I didn’t go to Bible Camp.” The yellow paladin’s retort was unintelligible to one who did not understand what a _bible_ was, but by the red one’s reaction, it must have been… _memorable_.

“That was one time, Hunk. _One time_.”

“I’m sure that’s what they all say, dude.”

“Oh, hey. Are we talking about Lance’s massive _broner_ for Keith?” The green paladin sidled up to the red one’s side, suckling at a strangely coloured ice chunk pronged with a wooden pole. With her appearance, the red paladin’s entire face drained of colour. 

“ _WHAT?_ ” He seemed to choke on the very air he breathed.

“Well, we are, now.” The yellow one accepted with little more than a shrug.

Kolivan was quick chuff when the red one dropped his recording device. He mentally noted to grant the green paladin access to a Marmoran blade for the purpose of studying its designs. Kolivan knew the gesture would be viewed as nothing short of a treat to one so driven by knowledge. 

Sure enough, Princess Allura completed the set of paladins that were no doubt here to visit the youngling slumped by Kolivan’s side. The Galran rebel wished to pluck him from the floor but his waned strength seemed to forbid it. 

“What are you all talking about?” The Princess asked, voice strong and regal. It was softened, if only for the children around her. 

“Gloryholes…” The green paladin nibbled on her icy treat; no doubt filled with sweetening ingredients as was wont for a child as small as she. Beside her, the red paladin spluttered. His feet shuffled by the device on the floor, leaving Kolivan to wish for its demise; preferably by the paladin’s own foot. 

“Oh my God—” The red paladin covered his eyes with a hand, as if to hide away from the Princess’ judging gaze, “ _Allura, I swear, it’s not like that_ —” 

“…guys?” The youngling’s purring died, replaced with a hearty yawn. Kolivan was relieved to see that Keith was able to stretch himself into a seated position, arms overhead as if to relieve deep tissue aches. He slumped with his back to Kolivan’s pallet a moment later, lazily tilting his head in askance. “Why are you so loud?”

His question was met with sheepish expressions from all but the green paladin, who simply stood there unashamedly nibling her icy treat. 

“Sorry, Keith. We were just stopping by.” The yellow one apologised, hands up as if to quell an enraged beast. 

Kolivan knew it was an expression of sincerity—

“Clandestine gloryholes…” The green paladin murmured reverently, suckling on the brightly coloured treat. 

Kolivan didn’t quite know what to make of it.

Apparently, neither did Keith. 

Thankfully, strangely, the red paladin had enough sense to cover what he could of the green one’s mouth without smearing himself with her treat. His panicked expression said all that needed to be said about the green one’s litany. 

“We’re leaving! Bye!” He promptly dragged his teammate away from the entrance. Kolivan heard sliding footsteps long after he’d lost sight of the paladins. 

He dimly hoped the red one hadn’t aimed to murder her…

“What the fuck was that about?” Keith deadpanned. He brought a hand up to rub his eyes of sleep. Kolivan’s purring increased in volume as he laid a hand on the youngling’s head, lightly ruffling the locks as Keith unconsciously leaned back into the touch, drooping his shoulders with a sigh. 

The yellow paladin leaned down to pick up the red one’s personal device. His sigh of relief brought a displeased frown to Kolivan’s face.

The device _lived_ …

A few languid blinks through tired eyes revealed the Princess no more than a few paces from his pallet, within an arm’s reach of Keith.

Kolivan did not mind her presence.

“It is good to see you awake, Kolivan.” She chimed; a warm smile quick to rise to her lips. The youngling seemed sleep-addled. He tilted his head up, further into Kolivan’s hand, then perked, seemingly coming to a realisation. He spun to his knees, dislodging the gentle caress the Galran rebel was begrudged to release. Kolivan let his hand fall against his side, covering the patched hole in his armour. He let his hooded eyes meet that of the startled youngling’s. 

“You’re awake…” Keith’s eyes seemed to mist under the dim lighting. 

“Yes. I suppose I have the paladins of Voltron to thank for that.” Kolivan reminded. He filled his words with pride, unable to hide his affectionate rumbles when the youngling ducked his head in embarrassment. Youthful rumbles responded in kind.

“You have Keith to thank, actually.” Princess Allura said, voice as warm as Kolivan’s purrs. “He was the one who refused to believe you truly dead.” Her tone turned wry. “Despite your heart having stalled for ten doboshes.”

“As long as Lance doesn’t RickRoll us…” Was Keith’s only response, which was picked up by the yellow paladin, who’d come to stand by his princess’ side. 

“I think he already made the vine, man.” He said, giving Keith cause to attempt to hide himself beneath an incredibly frail hand. 

Kolivan frowned. 

“How exactly did you save me?” He asked, raking his eyes over each of the paladins’ features for an explanation. Each one had a stance filled with chagrin. Keith’s figure was gaunt, curled against his pallet as much as his impossibly thin body would allow. 

It was… _worrisome_. 

“Well…” The Princess hummed. “I suppose it was a joint efforts of both paladin and lion.”

Kolivan raised an eyebrow. 

“Quintessence fusion.” Keith said simply, giving up on hiding himself from the known universe. Kolivan sighed.

His worry was not for naught, then.

“How has it affected you.” He asked, steady voice formed into a statement. He felt tired even just talking; he knew the youngling had to be knee-deep in the throes of exhaustion at this rate. 

He wasn’t wrong.

“I’m… getting there. I don’t think I’d be able to take on Blade missions for a while, even if I _wasn’t_ benched…” 

_Ah…_

“You are still bitter.” Kolivan acknowledged. Keith huffed.

“Damn straight.” His upset was used as a front for no more than a moment; the façade cracking into tired appraisal as he studied Kolivan’s form. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Kolivan nodded. “I share your sentiments,” he said.

“Perhaps,” Princess Allura intoned, “if we are all assured of each other’s wellbeing,” she pointedly looked to Keith, who didn’t even flinch under her gaze. “We should aim to rest in the comforts of a warm pallet.”

“I’m fine, Princess.” His respectful words were marred by the stubborn jut of his chin and the crossing of bone-thin arms across a heavily-rugged chest. The Princess met the wilful spunk with that of her own. The paladins were locked into a battle of wills, one which Kolivan wasn’t sure of the definite victor. 

The Princess, it turned out, had quite the streak for tenacity… 

“ _Tch… Fine._ ” Keith’s face scrunched into a scowl, even as he shifted to move from his spot at Kolivan’s side. The elder Galra let his purrs fade, knowing that they would not be needed, now that the youngling was near his family unit. 

That was one thing the Princess had been adamant about establishing; this was not a group of soldiers united by a mystical robot, but a _family_ built on trust and shared quintessence, bonded to their lions as though connected to an extra limb and mind. 

This show of family was quick to jump to the forefront as the yellow paladin helped Keith stumble to his feet and then across the room to another pallet. The youngling was not adverse to grumbling about the help, as though being cared for were to be abhorred with extreme vehemence. The yellow one paid it no mind, simply pulling his smaller companion into what was more of a cradle than an assisting shoulder and gently placing him into the pallet with the promise of food. 

Even Kolivan could see the perk of excitement as Keith tracked his friend’s motion out of the room. 

The Princess’ chuckle attracted Kolivan’s attention.

“I take it he’s more lively,” Kolivan assumed, nodding his head to the nestling youngling. Princess Allura nodded, hair curled around her figure as the hem of her dress kissed the floor. She was the vision of elegance; befitting of true royalty. 

“He’s looking much better, too.” She confessed, smile soft and endearing. “I’d certainly hope so; with all the sleep he’s gotten.” She looked down at Kolivan, imploring him with nothing more than a gaze. “He sleeps best at your bedside, despite it being on the floor.”

“Younglings seek out caregivers when they are at their weakest.” Kolivan explained. “It is where they feel safest.” 

The Princess hummed. She seemed to reach a conclusion, if the sudden fire to her eye was any indicator. 

“Then perhaps…” She trailed off, moving to stand by Keith’s pallet. They seemed to have a muted conversation, unheard only due to the static that washed over Kolivan’s senses. He decided to rest his eyes…

When he opened them again, Keith’s pallet was only a single pace from his own, and the room was empty.

The youngling was fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed this. I needed it so hard. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. AAAAAA. Gonna take a little time with these last chapters because I want to finish them _right_. (Then I’ll probably come back and add more chapters afterwards with little skits because I need to _indulge_ , okay?)
> 
> I'd also like to point out that there isn't really any Klance here, it's just friends making fun of each other. broners are like boners but for friends and it's kind of a ribbing to the whole Klance thing that just really won't exist here because i'm going Keith x Lotor ALL THE WAY BABY. Man. Next fic is gonna be a _ride_. Also, it reminds me of how my friends and I rib each other as having broners for each other. It's the kind of thing I'd feel you'd do with people you trust wouldn't use it against you and you'd be able to say whatever and it wouldn't be interpreted wrongly. In fact, Keith doesn't bother to interpret it, here. He's just like "wtf" and leaves it at that lmao. 
> 
> **10 points to whoever can recognise the Bo Burnham quotes in this chapter.**
> 
> Also Kuron isn't showing here because his cryopod is probably in the floor since nobody wants to see a dead body, am I right?
> 
> Also, I did 2 of my exams (Law and psychology) and have 1 left (accounting) which will be on Friday. 
> 
> I'll still take a couple days (maybe) to write out the last chapter of this fic, because I need to figure out what I want these guys to do on Arus (we discussed this last chapter, when Keith was like "let's not go to Kamen" and Allura's like "okay, let's go to Arus")
> 
> In any case, I'm glad y'all are still with me. I know some of you binged this far into the fic and are like "omgggg I need mooooar." I hope this 3000+ word mammoth will appease your fanfiction appetite for a little while. I don't fully know when the next chapter will come out, but I do know it's soon (like, days. not weeks, days. I love this fic too much to leave for long.)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading today's installment. I hope y'all have a lovely day! ♥♥♥


	30. The Magic Of Friendship, Everyone

“Today is the day!” Lance crowed, dabbing as he swiped his body past the active cryopod. 

“Today’s the day.” Pidge agreed; a little smirk perched upon her lips. Beside her, Hunk fist-pumped with both hands, letting out an enthused “ _yusssss_ ”. Keith looked at them confused.

“Today’s the… day?” He asked, looking at the paladins of Voltron as though they’d each grown a second head connecting them telepathically to some inside-joke-generator. Keith narrowed his eyes at each Human in the room, trying to gauge the notion’s validity.

He really wouldn’t put it past them.

“Yes,” Allura chimed, stepping into the room. “Today is the day. I believe everyone’s quintessence is at the appropriate level…?” She eyed Keith from his spot by Kolivan, daring him to say otherwise.

“Keith said he was feeling dizzy, earlier!” Lance called; arms lowered to point finger-guns Keith’s way.

“Did not!” Keith denied. A hasty flush creeped into his cheeks. “I said I was _fine_.”

“Did so!” Lance refuted. Keith narrowed his eyes.

“Did not!”

“Did so!”

“Did not!”

“Did not!”

“Did so— _fuck_.” Keith couldn’t believe he fell for that trick. 

“Ah-hah! Knew you’d fall for that one.” Lance snorted, safely hidden behind the cryopod; too far for Keith to gain retribution without drawing his knife and just using him as a dartboard. All Keith could do huddled at Kolivan’s side was hiss and glare, and even that wasn’t anywhere near as satisfying as he would’ve liked it to be.

“I didn’t, okay?” Keith threw up his hands, fully aware of Kolivan’s eyes on him, looking for possible weaknesses. Keith shot Lance a dirty glare. “Besides; snitches get stitches, _Lance_.”

“So you admit you were dizzy,” the right arm of Voltron gave out a dazzling smile, cradling his chin in the junction between his thumb and forefinger. Keith scoffed.

“As if!”

Why did nobody believe him? It wasn’t like he had a _history_ of pushing himself past his limits—

 _Oh_.

Okay, yeah; they had a point.

But they’d waited a _full movement_. Shiro was probably dying of boredom in the black lion’s mindscape by now…

No, he didn’t see the irony in that statement, nor would he ever. 

“Number Four, it’s perfectly alright to be a little nervous.” Coran said as he brought a portable scanner out of his pocket and began to take note of everyone’s quintessence levels. “I remember when King Alfor dabbled with quintessence fusions; always had the _shakes_ …”

“Yeah, well…” Keith kept still when it was his turn to be scanned, head forward and breathing steady. Coran came away with little more than an intrigued hum. “Like I said; I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with.” 

“Shouldn’t we move this outside?” Kolivan suggested. “You said it yourself, Princess. There is more quintessence beyond the Castle’s walls.” 

Allura nodded to her ally. “Kolivan is right. The ceremony will commence in a nearby clearing. Everyone, to your lions.” She looked to the Galran rebel. “I trust you can meet us there?”

“With the clone’s body.” Kolivan said, as if it has been a test. Allura only smiled.

“Excellent.” 

With that, Coran ushered the paladins out of the med bay so that he could turn his complete attentions to the cryopod. On the way out, Keith hesitated, letting his friends file out in front of him. He turned back. Kolivan met his gaze. Despite saying nothing, Kolivan seemed to understand his reluctance to leave.

“Do not worry, youngling. The black lion will not turn you away.”

Keith mutely nodded, as if the meagre words were enough to quell his raging anxiety. He knew they were symbolic somehow; Kolivan would never have called him ‘youngling’ if he were still truly a part of the Blades, or maybe he would have, and this is just a show of age over rank. 

The whole situation gave him a headache.

He shook his head, as if to get rid of it; he wouldn’t let it mess with today.

Today they were getting Shiro back.

 _Alive_.

The notion was enough to send butterflies to his stomach. 

Keith tried to ignore the fact that his introspection lasted him all the way to the black lion’s hangar. It felt like only a tick had passed and he was standing in front of his lion – and it was his lion, now, no doubt about it – and prepared to climb the ramp. 

Being this close…

It was like he was home. Truly, this time. 

The other paladins were connected to each other, and when they were together it almost felt like this.

But…

Nothing could ever compare to a lion’s connection.

“Alright,” He said, trying to psyche himself up, “I can do this.”

He knew he could; it was a question of if he’d _let_ himself do it. Piloting the black lion felt too much like he was replacing Shiro, despite the oncoming ceremony.

It felt too much like giving up.

_**Mine.** _

Keith blinked.

“You know,” he remarked, “I’m pretty sure you sound like a jealous ex.”

_**Mine.** _

“Alright, alright. I’m yours.” Keith rolled his eyes, though internally he was taken aback. There was an almost possessive quality to the black lion’s quintessence, reaching out to meet his. It was welcoming, in a way; all soft edges and cool darkness. The air around him was almost palpable.

Keith let it embrace him.

He felt Black’s presence settling over his thoughts like a soft blanket, held tight and secure as though no harm will come to him. It was like a balm to the flares of internal pain that sometimes made him want to hurl. In a way, it was like his dad’s hugs; all-encompassing and warm and steady in a way only his dad could be. Keith let himself be soothed by happier memories. He let the black lion in, completely this time. He let himself sink deep into Black’s reaching quintessence; let it cocoon him with promises of stability, trust, family.

It was…

It was nice. 

Really nice.

Keith wasn’t ashamed to admit it. 

He didn’t think the black lion would allow it. 

“Alright…” Keith breathed out; lungs deflating along with dispelling any mounting stress that had its hooks in him. He opened his eyes. Suddenly, the black lion didn’t seem as imposing. He almost smiled. 

“Let’s do this.”

~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~

His hands shook on the controls.

Red’s warm presence was the only thing keeping his stomach at bay as it roiled and churned with nerves. 

Maybe Coran was wrong; maybe it wasn’t Keith who had the shakes, but _him_. Maybe this plan was on the wrong side of crazy and maybe – just _maybe_ – he was okay with that. Before now, he’d always been down for the odd spontaneous genius that rolled on by, whether it had been in the form of memes or his equally mischief-making siblings. But this…

This was Shiro. 

This was _Keith_.

This was working with a body that had been _dead_ for a whole _week_. 

This was them being unable to let go, because letting go meant giving up, and they weren’t about to give up. Not when they knew they could do something about it. 

About _this_. 

Lance didn’t know if he wanted to puke or cry; he still hadn’t forgotten the way his quintessence had curled around his teammates the last time they’d brought back a dead person, nor did he forget how it had felt like he was keeping everyone’s quintessence stitched together in the ceremony; as if he knew without it, everything would fall apart. 

He’d been getting more feelings like that, lately. 

How he’d know things without ever really _knowing_ things. How he’d hear the lions – _all_ of them – rumbling from their separate towers, even in the depths of his sleep as he dreamed of the sea and of his family and the desert he’d last seen of Earth. 

He wondered if this was what Keith meant, when he said he could _feel_ the blue lion, all those months ago. 

Had it been a year, yet? 

Lance didn’t even want to think about that. 

It was hard enough being away from home for so long. He couldn’t handle having a time measurement to boot. 

“Everyone ready?” Keith’s voice jolted him from his musings, reminding Lance to breathe and live in the _here_ and _now_. It took him fractions of a tick to banish his insecurities, easily opening up a video connection with his teammates so he could share his absolutely _stellar_ smirk with minimal effort.

“‘Ready’ is my middle name.” He said, turning his smirk into a _smoulder_. Pidge’s screen popped in a tick later.

She looked _right into the camera_.

“ _Charles_.” She said, without any context. Lance felt himself pale under her scrutiny.

“Uhh… what?” Hunk said, screen popping up in another window. Pidge looked directly into Lance’s eyes, though it might have just felt that way because of the camera angle.

“Lance’s middle name is ‘ _Charles_ ’,” She deadpanned. 

Lance swore he could feel himself dying right there and then. To escape it all, he covered his eyes with a hand. He didn’t want to see his teammates faces as they subjected him to this form of humiliation.

“Lance…” He heard Keith say. He waited with bated breath. “…has a middle name?”

He blinked.

“ _That’s_ what you’re focused on?” He snarked back, wrenching his hand from his face to stare incredulously at his leader. 

Keith actually _shrugged_. 

“I thought you were joking. Didn’t think you really _had_ a middle name.”

“Hey, yeah, how did _Pidge_ find out—?” Hunk cut himself off, as if realising the can of worms he was thinking of opening. “Yeah, you know what? I don’t wanna know. Some things in life deserve to be left a secret.”

“Wise words, Hunk.” Allura praised. “Alright paladins,” She said, voice holding a commanding tone. Lance felt the shift in the air, more than willing to roll with it. He’d follow Allura _anywhere_.

He was _absolutely_ looking at her screen with a fresh smoulder. 

“We need to get to the clearing. I trust you all have the coordinates?” She asked, as if already knowing the answer. Everyone gave their affirmatives.

 _Almost_ everyone. 

Lance was hoping for _one last play_ before _Space Dad Shiro_ came swooping for the win. 

“Uh, Princess? I seem to have misplaced mine. You don’t mind playing _tour guide_ , right?” 

“Ugh, you’re gonna make me barf.” Pidge complained. Her fingers typed away, loud enough to be heard through the speakers. A tick later, coordinates appeared in bold lettering across his screen. “There. Now you can’t complain.”

Lance was mcfucking _scandalised_. 

“Is that _comic sans_?”

“Get dunked on.” She threw up a bird on each hand, letting each one get ample screen time. 

“I believe it is time to get going.” Allura interrupted, strangely in a good mood despite them getting side-tracked. Lance was quick to comply, always happy to see the Princess in good spirits.

“I wholeheartedly agree, Princess.” Then for added measure, “Last one there’s a quiznak!” 

He heard a plethora of groans as he and Red shot off in the direction of the clearing. He let out a whooping laugh, knowing full-well that he’d never lose. A few ticks later had him landing in his designated position. It was so close, they could have walked, but they’d decided on using the lions’ quintessence for the actual ceremony so they wouldn’t be so run-down.

Lance left the safety of Red’s cockpit in full civilian wear, hands pressed to his hips, as he saw the rest of his teammates land in front of him. As he walked into the centre of the clearing where the ceremony was to take place, he smirked.

“Guess you guys just can’t beat greatness.” He sighed, as if forlorn. Pidge came over from her lion first, bringing the Altean version of a tarp and spreading it in place so Shiro wouldn’t wake up with rocks in his back. 

She looked him _right in the eye_.

“Guess you just can’t beat Killbot Phantasm 1.” She said. Lance gasped, hand over his heart.

“You wound me.”

“At least I’m on level 36.”

Fake hurt made way for complete shock. He gaped.

“ _What!? That’s the last level in the game!_ ”

She gave him a smirk. He squinted at her, as if mentally prying for her secrets. 

“Kolivan should be here anytime, now.” Keith broke their stare-off, probably without meaning to. When Lance looked over, his friend was standing off to the side, arms crossed and fingers tapping against his elbow. He looked like he was chosen to do a class presentation. _First_. 

Lance winced.

“Uh,” Hunk’s eyes darted between all of his teammates as him and Allura joined the group, “is anybody else nervous? Because _I’m_ nervous. It’s, like, totally cool if you’re _not_ ; I was just checking.” He fiddled with his hands, bringing them up to peer at them around his fingerless gloves. A light breeze ruffled his bandanna ties hanging from the back of his head. Beside him, Allura placed a hand on his shoulder. Her own dress ruffled against the wind.

“I’m sure it all will work out. The lions, themselves, feel we are prepared.” Her voice was warm and clear; gentle bells that sounded in time to the swaying branches around their clearing. It added to the overall serenity of the place. Even Lance felt himself relax. 

He could almost doze, like this.

The cut path into the clearing was shadowed by Kolivan’s hulking form pulling a long cylindrical canister behind him. At once, some of the nervous energy from earlier reappeared. Along one side of the container – the _cryopod_ – was a glass opening, showing the dead clone’s one-armed body. 

Lance couldn’t have been the only one to tense; the clone looked like it would pounce from its pod, just like it had done the first time. 

He was suddenly questioning why they’d asked _Kolivan_ to carry it. 

It almost seemed…

 _Cruel_. 

His respect for Kolivan raised just that much. He didn’t think he’d ever have the courage to lug his own would-be murderer anywhere, much less to reanimate their body. 

“There were no complications.” The Galran rebel said as he met the group in the middle of the lion circle. 

Lance swore Pidge had her space phone out, ready to play _The Circle of Life_. He also swore that if she didn’t, he _would_.

“Excellent. We need him on the mat.” Allura said, indicating with her hand. Kolivan nodded. 

With utmost care, the Galran rebel cracked open the cryopod. Frigid air escaped the pod in an ongoing puff, much like an iced-over freezer. Lance shivered, even though he was one of the furthest from the pod. The chill creeped its way over, even under the sun’s warm light, threatening to crawl up his legs and take him under. Lance had to breathe for a tick; had to let himself focus on the here and now so that all of the fear and uncertainty of the past few movements could settle. 

He let himself take in the ceremony before him. He let it finally settle in his gut; that _this was real_ and that it was going to _work_. For the first time… the first time in a _long_ time, really…

Lance felt hope. 

He finally felt hope. 

He knew Allura was always talking about keeping it… about keeping it _close_ , but…

Now Lance finally felt it. 

This was going to work; he knew it would. Looking over at Keith, he could only hope he felt it too. 

This wasn’t about Voltron, anymore. This was about _them_ , four Humans from planet Earth – however Human they may be – and their alien family members all gathering around in a circle, singing _Kumbaya_ as they bring one of their own back from the dead; a literal zombie. 

That… sounded less optimistic than he’d first thought. 

_Oops_.

“I guess we should all get in position…” Lance’s voice was oddly subdued, even to his own ears, as Kolivan lowered Shiro’s designated body down on the blanket. He got equally nervous looks from his teammates, but when he met their gazes, even _he_ could read the determination in them. Kolivan moved out of the way, giving them the space they need to perform the ritual. 

As one, they knelt in place, with Keith at the head. They reached out until their hands hovered above the corpse, taking a collective breath. They kept their eyes open, looking to each other as if uncertain as to the next step. At the head, Keith seemed to falter. Lance was about to open his mouth, about to say something, when Red’s presence echoed in the back of his mind. He felt his whole face slacken of expression; he knew his eyes must’ve glazed over. That didn’t matter. 

Lance just focused on Red.

Slowly, images – _visions_ , his mind supplied him – flickered through his mind. One after the other; all of them featuring the late King Alfor. 

With a start, he realised he was looking at King Alfor performing the exact same ritual they were about to do. He watched as the person lying in the centre of their ritual was enveloped in the quintessence of all five lions and their paladins. 

Lance watched the quintessence fade to reveal—

_Allura…_

The visions abruptly stopped; snapped away into the red lion’s memory as Lance was left to return to his body of his own accord. His eyes flew open, accompanied by a breathless gasp. He took a tick just to get his breath back, suddenly lightheaded from the rush of non-memories. He looked up, staring straight into startled blue titanium orbs. He was filled with a nauseating mix of _fear, relief, determination, elation_. Lance knew these were a rush of long-dead emotions; a figment of Red’s presence.

Still, they gave him an idea.

“Allura, you need to extract Shiro’s soul from the black lion.” He said around the emotions that were swelling and dying in his throat. Allura gave him a startled look, one filled with consideration and the briefest hints of doubt. Lance reached over and placed his hand over hers. He gave her his most reassuring smile, injecting as much warmth as he could just like when his niece and nephew had their bad days and needed someone to tell them everything was going to be alright. And it was. This was going to _work_ ; Lance _knew_ it. “Red has a plan, I swear.”

Allura drew in a deep breath, then another. She nodded. “Alright, then.” And she stood, making her way to the black lion, who watched the proceedings over Keith’s shoulder. As if sensing its duty, it brought its head down so Allura could reach its muzzle. 

She hesitated.

Then…

A gasp – Lance wasn’t sure who – accented the sensation of raw _energy_ surging through him; through everyone. At once, his body’s civilian clothing – his _skin_ – peeled away to reveal whitish-blue quintessence.

 _His_ quintessence.

Looking up revealed a similar fate for his friends; Keith caked in a dark void interwoven with vermillion flickers threatening an outright wildfire, Pidge with her green hues so bright they were an off-white, and Hunk a brilliant gold shimmering in the sunlight. 

And Allura…

Lance’s breath was stolen from him. No amount of words could describe his awe as her iridescent rose-petal pink quintessence filled everything around her with _life_.

With _love_.

She truly was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met in his entire life; Lance was certain of this even before the concept of ‘ _paladins_ ’ had really set in. But to see it in her very essence, stripped bare for the whole universe to see in all its glory…

She was hope. 

Keith might be the leader, and Pidge might be the smart one, and Hunk might be the chef, and Lance was the goofball that tried to keep everyone together as a unit but—

Allura was hope. 

She was _their_ hope. 

He finally understood why King Alfor had been so determined to protect her, even as his whole planet was destroyed underneath him.

Allura was _hope_.

That hope was what brought Lance’s focus. As Allura finally placed her hands upon the black lion’s maw, its hulking form was enshrouded with a placid lavender aura. The aura drained itself from the lion’s body, sucked into the Princess’ hands and self-molded so that she was holding a floating sheer orb of purple sea glass. It was about the size of her head and outwardly pulsed with what could only be described as cosmic energy. 

_Shiro…_

He knew who that ball of energy belonged to, even without Keith’s startled jolt and Allura’s confidence returning in every visible aspect of her. Everyone’s eyes trailed the orb as the Princess came back to her position by Shiro’s right leg. She knelt. With gentle hands, she offered the orb to the centre of the group, directly above where the body’s heart would be. Lance reached out, fingers slipping beneath hers to help hold the load. One by one, Keith, Pidge and Hunk followed suit. 

For a moment, all they did was hold the sea glass orb, getting familiar with the familiarity of Shiro’s presence humming beneath the pads of their fingers. 

Lance almost cried.

It was like coming home. 

Something clicked into place as that orb prodded at their quintessence, connecting them in a way that hadn’t seemed possible since Shiro had died in the last battle with Zarkon. Somehow, the orb – _Shiro_ – nudged their quintessence until they began to truly fuse into one being. This time, encouraging the fusion was less work. It was almost like Shiro was guiding them through pathways and tunnels until they each found a mutual crossroad, joining together as pathways crumbled into mutual existence. 

He felt it the instant Shiro’s quintessence was absorbed into their bodies, settling into the age-old trust they’d built in those first few phoebs of becoming paladins. 

Lance promised to never let that trust down. 

In his heightened sense of being, he sensed similar sentiments from everyone connected to him. 

As one, they dipped their hands down until they were splayed across their allocated body part, filling life into every limb. Instead of their own quintessence bleeding through the corpse, Shiro’s sea glass purple stretched and consumed, turning into a brilliant lavender hue as it settled and peeled away skin and clothes, leaving the body as nothing more than a faceless humanoid. Lance took it a step further, leaking his own quintessence into the downed body until it reached the heart. 

He waited. 

_Patience yields focus_.

One by one, tentative and fragile, his friends – no, _family_ – each reached out; all of them grasping the heart and curling themselves around it as if to protect it from the damage already dealt. Lance nudged them until the curling sensation was more of a feather-light caress, using the ghosting sensation of not-memories to guide him. He connected with their minds, implanting ideas like Red had done when they’d healed Kolivan. One by one, they responded to the mental impulses with affirmations of their own.

As one, they fed their quintessence directly into Shiro’s heart, feeling the sudden jolt as the organ moved and pumped and made the body beneath them jerk and _breathe_. They barely gave Shiro enough time to manually get his lungs to work the way he probably wanted them to before feeding their quintessence into every other part of him, reawakening stiff limbs and muscles and tendons and nerves and bone and tissue and _hair_ —

Lance took a moment to separate himself from the confusing mash of sensations that weren’t his own. It was hard, especially since the connection ran so deep, but it wasn’t impossible. With the newfound layer of clarity, he noticed his teammates feeding every bit of quintessence in their bodies into Shiro’s new vessel. Lance felt his frown even as Red rumbled in disapproval. She sent him more images, urging him to act before they killed themselves with good intentions.

He listened. 

Like last time, Lance felt along the different veins of quintessence joined in the centre. He set to work; stitching them together and becoming the battery to their machine while the others worked to restore every inch of the battered body beneath them. It was fortunate, in a way, that Shiro’s right arm was missing, otherwise he’d have to divert his attentions between piecing his team together and making the limb beneath him whole. 

Lance couldn’t help but think of Keith, remembering how much he’d put into bringing Kolivan back; how it’d sapped him of all strength until he was as weak as a literal kitten. 

It was disconcerting in so many ways.

It made him almost sighed in relief when the lions finally connected with their paladins. 

Instantly, a rush of warmth flowed through his link with Red. Having himself hold the patchwork of his team’s quintessence meant he also felt Blue’s cooling caress fuel Allura. He oddly grounded by the yellow and green lions, but the quintessence from the black lion…

It was like swallowing stardust. 

Tingles raced through every part of him, beyond the scope of fingers and toes. It was almost too much for him; had he not been linked to the other paladins… this kind of energy would have torn him to pieces. 

For some reason, that thought made him crave for _more_.

Behind him, he dimly heard Red roar. It snapped him out of the thin daze he’d thrown himself in; scorching flames licking at his life force until he focused back on his task of energising his teammates. It left him shaken, but conscious. 

_That was too close_. 

Lance was more than aware of the dangers quintessence ceremonies possessed; Zarkon was just one example.

He was so glad he had Red to back him up on this one. 

Lance felt the red lion’s loyal presence through their link as more quintessence flowed through him like a sieve. It changed from molten fire to crisp ice, his own quintessence softening the immense power. He half-listened to the hazy instructions being fed into his mind; body seeming to know exactly what to do before the direction came. It was another one of those moments where he knew things he shouldn’t; did things he’d never done before. 

He couldn’t ask for a better time. 

Lance felt his way through the mosaic before him, sorting through his teammates until he found Shiro’s presence. He pulled him into the fusion, much like he’d seen King Alfor do in the not-memories and swept himself over Shiro’s resurrected body, checking to see what needed to be done.

It was completely whole.

Err—

Save for one arm, that is. 

He felt Shiro’s amusement beneath the tentative connection. 

In any case, the fusion was complete. Shiro’s body was functional in its own right, and if Red was correct – which she _was_ – then after this, their beloved space dad wouldn’t even need a cryopod. 

It felt good to be a winner. 

Despite being able to sense his thoughts, Lance didn’t detect anything more than faint amusement from those connected in the ceremony. He decided it was time to wrap things up; any longer, and the rest of them would need pods for a whole movement. 

This time, he let Red guide him through the process of unstitching everyone from the fusion. With the added flows of quintessence from the lions, Lance didn’t want to mess anything up. The red lion was more than happy to help; taking hold of his own quintessence and infusing it with its own so his original form was infused with red vines. Red assured him that it would only show for the ceremony and would not affect him quite like the quintessence fusion between Keith and the black lion. 

He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not.

Still, Lance took the help as it came; separating his friends from each other one by one, nudging them back into their own forms, until the only ones connected were him, Keith and Shiro. It was difficult to get a handle on the void-like quintessence. Vermillion vines didn’t make it easier, as they flickered into raging flames every time he tried to peel them away. It took Lance’s own faintly-glowing vines for Keith to realise what he was doing, by which point, he let go on his own without Lance’s help. 

Then it was just him. 

Him and Shiro.

Lance took one last tick to check Shiro’s quintessence. 

He traced the lines connecting his hero to each of the lions; the strongest line leading directly to the black lion. 

Shiro’s heart beat steady. 

Satisfied with the assessment, Lance mentally nudged Red. 

_I think we’re just about done, here._

His thought was met with the warmth of stamped embers. He followed Red’s lead, finally disconnecting himself from Shiro’s quintessence and releasing his hold on the raw power all around him. 

Lance shivered. 

He was barely aware as a distant weight landed on his shoulder, tipping him to his left and promptly righting him. 

He blinked. 

Slowly, colours took shape before his eyes. Warmth overhead indicated the sun was beginning to set; a dry dusty heat settled against his skin not uncomfortably. Lance’s skin felt pleasantly warm under his jacket. Sensations of sight and smell and touch were brought back to him, bit by bit. 

Lance blinked again. 

He made out the shapes of his friends – his _family_ – looking in his direction as sounds similar to their voices filtered through his ears. He gulped. Spoken word coiled around his head and took a moment to really filter through his messy translator, having fried it after the not-memories were laced with advanced Altean. He recognised most of the words directed toward him as questions. He thought Pidge asked him if he was alright. 

“Uh…” His mouth felt weird when he spoke, “I’ll be fine. Just a little out of it.”

Apparently, that was the right thing to say. His teammates nodded, each giving him one last look with unnameable emotions before directing their focus on Shiro’s working body. From what Lance could tell through the popping of his ears and the blurry outlines of his features, Shiro was struggling to open his eyes, mumbling seemingly incoherent words. Keith answered with similarly incoherent words, so Lance figured it was just him. He saw Keith reach down and brush Shiro’s bangs out of his face, looking into the face of a clone which had seemingly changed to something that looked a little more like Shiro’s face than the clones…

Well, _that’s_ weird.

Then again, it could’ve just seemed that way because of the fusion experience.

Lance bet his GACs winnings uni grads never experienced _this_ in their fraternity careers. 

No amount of joking and internal monologuing could distract Lance from an ice of _cold_ that had settled in the centre of his chest. He shivered, eyelids drooping even as Red helped battle the cold within him. He puffed out some hair, hoping to expel the cold inside of him. It only made his breath frost over the moment it passed his lips.

He felt himself falling. 

The ground, somehow soft instead of grass and dirt and small pebbles that he knew should be there, came up to meet him. It cradled his head, even though the surface beneath his head was slightly elevated and kinda warm and it… it was kinda comfy…

Is this how Keith felt last time? Lance remembered him taking the lead for Kolivan, patching the hole up and willing the Galra to _breathe_. This was—

This was intense. 

Lance couldn’t tell up from down or which way was right. His head felt kind of light and fuzzy and _cold…_

He found he didn’t mind it all that much. It felt kind of nice. Like air-con on a hot day.

Lance let his eyes droop shut, another puff of air leaving his lips. He felt so _tired_ and Red was a distant noise even through their link; all concern and warmth and _home_. Still, Lance couldn’t summon the energy to stay. He felt himself sink under a pit of icy water. 

He didn’t drown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I HAVE A PLAN.
> 
> I never write with a plan, so whenever I try for this fic, it kills me. Every. Time. 
> 
> As such, for the next 2 chapters (gonna make it half a stack --> only true minecrafters will understand), I'm gonna finish this baby off with an explanation (even tho Pidge tried like 20 chapters ago but Keith was too out of it to listen) and then we gonna have a fluff chapter to tie things off. That's the PLAN anyways. Y'all see this chapter? THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I HAVE A PLAN. 5000+ words. Man. I spoil you guys. 
> 
> Oh! Good news: Finished all my finals exams. That was fun. Now it's time to wrestle with these next to chapters so I can move on to bigger and brighter futures. (namely, the missing week between last chapter and this chapter). 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading this far. I hope y'all have a lovely day! ♥♥♥


	31. Damn Brogane, Back At It Again With The Feels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a discord so we can discuss stuff like Voltron and this fic and stuff. Hope someone joins. 
> 
> https://discord.gg/awxVjkh
> 
> I also want to personally thank you guys for sticking with it this long, but there's no messaging function on ao3 so I'm like 'rip time to improvise'

_It worked…_

Keith felt nauseous with relief.

_Holy shit, it worked._

He didn’t think—he didn’t _know_ it would work. The whole time, they’d been following Lance’s crazy plan, putting coins in their own jars of hope—

Soft grey eyes stared up at him, proving that it hadn’t gone to waste.

“Shiro—” His voice caught in his throat as a sob coughed out. He couldn’t—

He couldn’t believe it. He _could_ believe it. He didn’t know what his head wanted right now. He didn’t know—

“… Keith?” Shiro’s voice was hoarse, but otherwise strong. He felt Shiro level him with a look of soft wonder; the kind he’d get whenever he did something Shiro thought was amazing. It’d been…

It’d been a really, _really_ long time since he’d earned that look. 

He dared to believe it was real. 

“You’re alive. You’re really—”

“ _Lance!_ ” Allura gasped from Keith’s right. He jerked his head up in time to see the Princess stopping Lance from faceplanting into Shiro’s chest. Something in Keith’s chest froze as he took in the unnaturally pallid pallor of his skin tone; no longer its sun-kissed tan, but a sickly yellow that had a borderline ashen hue. Lance’s eyes, usually a deep blue, were more of a cobalt-grey slicked over with a feverish haze. 

“… I’ll be fine. Just a little out of it.” Lance murmured. Keith had to strain to hear it. Shiro looked up in Lance’s direction, genuine concern marring his features. Keith let a breath out of his nose, willing himself to be centred.

_Patience yields focus._

“We gotta lie him down.” He said, gaining his friends’ attention. They nodded, looking at him for guidance. He almost deflected to Shiro, as he’d had to do for the clone, before realising his mentor – his _brother_ – might not even be able to move on his own. Kolivan certainly hadn’t. “Shiro, can you move?” He asked, indicating to Shiro’s remaining arm and feet. “Can you feel your fingers and toes?” 

Shiro, thankfully, listened and seemed to grip his fingers and stretch his feet out before nodding. “Yeah, I think everything’s in order. Hang on.” He rolled over onto his remaining arm, using it to brace himself and boost into an unbalanced seated position. Keith put his hands on Shiro’s shoulder blades, helping to keep him steady. The older male needed a moment to catch his breath; the act of sitting up apparently straining his stiff muscles. 

Kolivan, who’d stood at the edge of the clearing this whole time, approached the paladins with an air of purpose.

“I trust everything went well?” He said, tilting his head down to scan the situation. 

“Lance needs to be taken back to the Castle. He’s severely drained.” Allura said, concern coating her words as she cradled Lance in her arms. His eyelids fluttered shut and his body was steadily losing its strength as it fell all the more limp against her. From where he sat, Keith could see Lance’s lips taking on a blue tint and puffs of frosted air accompanying each breath. 

“He’s freezing. We gotta get him wrapped up.” Keith said. “Kolivan, can you take Shiro into the black lion? I’ll give you guys a lift.” At Kolivan’s nod, Keith turned to the other paladins. “Allura, Hunk, I’ll need you two to tow the red lion to its hangar. Pidge,” He made eye-contact. “Get in contact with Matt. We’ll need that incubator.” She nodded. Keith took one last look at everyone, feeling the weight of leadership fall on his shoulders. It wasn’t as heavy as he remembered.

He never thought he’d be back.

He never thought he’d lead them, again; not after last time.

Keith was only glad they let him. 

“Let’s move out.” 

~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~

Like a well-oiled machine, they moved in tandem; hoisting Shiro into Kolivan’s arms to be carried into the black lion’s hold, rolling Lance onto the mat Shiro had woken up on, and wrapping the Cuban boy like a burrito so Allura could carry him into the blue lion. 

All the while, Keith took charge and directed them like the leader Shiro knew he could be. 

He couldn’t be more proud. 

Despite his initial reservations about being cradled, Shiro had to admit he felt a little weak when curling his legs up to let Kolivan do his job was enough to warrant heavy breathing. Being hoisted into the air left him in a state of breathlessness that teetered dangerously into nauseous territory. He had to shut his eyes as his newly awakened stomach churned on whatever his clone had eaten last. 

And wasn’t that something.

He didn’t know if he should be flattered or creeped out at being chosen to be cloned.

It was disturbing how he instantly saw how they’d cloned him, too. 

The stub in his shoulder made being carried all the more easier, as there wasn’t an extra limb to throw Kolivan off-balance, but it reminded him of a missing weight that had haunted him since the gladiator pits. Instead, he kept his remaining hand close to his side, avoiding the glaringly obvious shifts in muscle beneath him that indicated his ride’s equal discomfort. 

Shiro wondered exactly what his clone had done to leave the Galran rebel this wary of him. 

Last he’d checked, they were on good terms.

It seemed he had some catching up to do; on more fronts than he’d first thought…

Shiro took one last look at his team; tried to cement them in his mind. Time in the black lion’s mindscape had taught him to appreciate what he had while he still had it. 

To hold on to what he had, while it was still around.

He wondered if that was why Zarkon threw everything away to be with his wife; if he understood the importance of those he cared about and fought to keep them by his side. 

He wondered if that was how he would turn out; crazed and desperate for those he could not save.

Could not _have_.

A dark well of possessiveness that wasn’t his own seized him out of nowhere. Images – _not-memories_ – flickered in and out of focus. He made out the detainment room, cold and barren. There was a glitch. He saw Keith hunched over a nearby viewing glass. Everything shifted. He saw Keith sprawled under him, desperately blocking and fending against _searing purple_ —

“ _Shiro!_ ” Hands patted his cheek, trying to get his focus. Shiro felt his breath catch in his throat as bile and his forgotten meal rose up to greet it. The hands on his face tilted his head to the side, guiding him so he didn’t choke on his own sick. It didn’t make a very impressive puddle – barely a yard in diameter – but it was enough to lure him back to reality. He blinked; eyes wide as they darted around the dark space too similar to the black lion’s mindscape. 

Was it wrong that he found comfort in that?

His eyes finally landed on Keith, who had taken to kneeling at his side and supporting his back against the wall while Kolivan rummaged in one of the side compartments. He took in Keith’s form, from the obviously _recent_ burn scar lining his face to the small chunks of vomit splattered on dark jeans. Shiro grimaced. 

“… sorry…” He whispered; his throat thoroughly abused. He tried to swallow but it only made him feel like going a second round. Keith just shook his head.

“It’s fine,” He said. “Kolivan threw up, too. It’s normal.” 

Shiro blinked. He felt his brow furrowed. 

“ _Kolivan_ … wait – Kolivan was dead?” he croaked, noticing the Galran rebel stiffen in his search through the black lion’s storage compartments. Keith didn’t seem to notice, but he did cringe, himself. 

“Uh, yeah. It’s a long story…” Keith looked up at the Marmoran leader, as if to gauge his reaction, before looking back at Shiro. “You’ll have to ask him about it. It’s not really my place to tell.” 

Shiro nodded. “I understand,” he said, not wanting to make things awkward between them. 

He was just glad to be back. 

Something told him he was also glad to have _Keith_ back, but he couldn’t quite place _why_ …

Kolivan came back a moment later, hands full of rags and a type of Altean disinfectant he’d seen Coran use on more than one occasion. Keith took the rags with a nod of thanks before setting to work. Shiro remained propped up against the back wall of the black lion’s hold, trying to get a feel for his new body. 

That was…

_Actually_ something he thought he should ask about.

“Hey, Keith?” He caught the younger man’s gaze. _God_ , it was weird thinking of him as an adult. He still looked like a kid, even with the scar. “How exactly did my clone die?”

Keith hesitated, eyes darting away in what Shiro knew to be a nervous tick, as if he were thinking of evading the question. Shiro nearly snorted.

Keith really couldn’t lie.

“Well, uh, you see—” He stuttered. Shiro raised his eyebrow.

“Yes…” Shiro nodded, even though it made him kind of nauseous.

“He was _disarmed_ …” Keith said, wincing as if he could taste the pun on his tongue. Shiro bit his.

“Go on…” The older male urged, trying not to laugh and add on to the joke. Keith huffed.

“To be fair, I was unconscious when it happened.” 

“Likely story.” Shiro nodded sagely. They made eye contact; nostalgic amusement shared between them. Something seemed to go through Keith’s head, as he broke away first, a sudden flash of guilt taking over his features. Shiro felt his worry paramount to the brief humour, adding to what was likely a full head of white and greyed hair as he fed into his stress. 

Keith had _nothing_ to be guilty for. Whatever happened, Shiro knew it wasn’t his fault. 

Keith was too good for that. 

“Allura thinks it was because Haggar was pissed at me for taking down her puppet so easily.” Keith said, a wince audible in his words. “I mean, it worked out, but…” He sighed. 

Shiro wanted nothing more than to sweep his little brother in for a hug; to tell him it was going to be okay, now. He wanted so badly to make things right, starting with a cringe-inducing sci-fi movie night and ending with a heart-to-heart and getting to the bottom of _what the hell happened_ while he was in the black lion’s mindscape. As it was, he could barely curl his fingers against his torso where they’d been placed to help him feel more secure in this vulnerable state. 

There was still something he _could_ do, though. 

Something that had earned him his ‘space dad’ title time and time again. 

“You did good, son.” 

Keith started. He blinked, jerking his head up to check if Shiro had really said that. Shiro nodded sagely, doing nothing to hide his inner troll. 

“When I was your age, I faced many struggles. One of them was learning to be a better man.” 

Keith’s eyes widened, mouth puckering up like he’d eaten a lemon. A small machine whirred next to him, looking kind of like the R2-D2 droid from _Star Wars_. There was a camera on its head with a red light blinking at the top. Shiro thought it might be recording this speech. 

_Perfect_. 

Okay, maybe not perfect. But it was enough to warrant the whole speech. 

Shiro told himself he regret nothing; Keith brought this upon himself. 

“Evidently, dismembering an older family member was never an issue. Not in my household, anyways.” Shiro sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, as if reminiscing _simpler_ times. He drew in a breath, opening his eyes to the cold expanse of the black lion’s hold like he was about to take off on a new journey. “But in life, there are many trials we must face. These trials shape us, teach us what it means to be alive. And, most importantly, to become the people we are today.” By the end of it, Shiro dropped the fake dad voice in favour of something more sincere. He met Keith’s eyes, wishing beyond anything he’d wished before in his life, afterlife, and before even that, that he could reach out and comfort his little brother like when they were still on Earth. 

Reality told him one thing, though.

This wasn’t Earth. 

They weren’t kids, anymore. 

_Keith_ wasn’t a kid, anymore. 

It almost choked him up.

“They don’t have to define us.” Shiro finally continued; voice soft, spoken around the ball that had made a home in his throat, willing Keith to _understand_. “We are where we put ourselves. We can choose to move past it or remain trapped in a prison of our own makings.” 

He saw Keith swallow – saw the words hit _home_ – and knew he’d found the root of the issue. 

_Oh, Keith…_

“You’re not alone. Not anymore.” Shiro felt tears well up in the corners of his strangely sharp vision as he uttered those words. He knew what his brother had gone through – how he’d been _alone_ for so long and had tried to make it _work_ – what he’d experienced at the hands of the _Pierre Foster Centre_ staff and how that had destroyed his trust in those meant to care most for him. 

He knew how much his revival meant to him. 

Arms clamped around his sides as a lean body moved past the cleaned puddle of sick. Dark locks tickled his face. Shiro didn’t complain. He just let it happen, tilting his head down until it rest against freshly cleaned hair. He breathed in, detecting what he remembered of Lance’s hair care packs; relishing the slight pain of his chest being constricted if it meant it wasn’t a ghost of a sensation like back in the mindscape. 

Of anything, anything in this whole universe… anything at all… he’d missed this.

He’d missed _Keith_.

If the tremors above him were an indicator, Shiro knew it wasn’t one-sided. 

It took strength he didn’t think he had; it took an iron-clad will he’d almost forgotten… but slowly, infinitesimally, finger by finger, wrist and then arm, Shiro shifted his arm out from under Keith’s torso. He reached up – inch by inch, arm shaking in time to the tremors against him – until his arm, his flesh-and-bone hand rest flush against Keith’s back. It was hard to keep it in place, but he did. 

He managed it. 

He _had_ to. 

The weight of his arm somehow pulled Keith in until they were chest-to-chest, breathless hiccups barely audible even this close. It didn’t disguise the tears that now bled into his vest, but he didn’t want it to. His own tears joined the mix, soaking into Keith’s hair and leaving him lighter, somehow. He felt a relief like no other finally settle over him, releasing all the stress that came with not-memories that could only be the clone’s; with the stress of being Voltron’s black paladin.

Voltron’s _leader_.

A quiet rumble echoed in his mind, cool and gentle. 

_**Rest, now**_ , it said. _**I have chosen another. You may rest.**_

Something told him that _other_ was Keith.

That _something_ also told him his little brother was in safe hands.

The presence was soothing to his cracked and fractured psyche, promising safety and a familiar caress pulling him into the void he’d spent countless phoebs idling. It released him from duty but retained an unmatched fondness. 

The black lion chose him over Zarkon. 

It chose to preserve him in its mindscape, safe from raging war and pain. He knew being absolved of duty did not translate into abandonment; the black lion cared too much. _Shiro_ cared too much.

His only orders were to remain safe. Stable. _**Alive**_ , the voice insisted. Shiro believed it.

As the shaking above him died off, with Keith moving to pull away, the black lion lulled his mind away from whatever not-memories were still stored in his clone’s brain. He felt his body relax, finally spent despite only having just woken. He felt uncharacteristically weak. 

_**Sleep…** _

Shiro could see why Keith thought Black was pushy…

Shiro also realised why he was so adamant to stay awake.

He didn’t want to leave him. Not again.

_**Time is yours, now. You will never truly leave him, child.** _

He found his eyes wouldn’t stay open, regardless of his efforts. The hold swirled into the cool familiarity of the void, brushing his bangs lovingly until his mind began to drift.

_**Sleep…** _

He listened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a chapter plan. I really did. I took one look at it and kinda just sat it in a corner to be a good little plot device while I did my own thing and catered to my need for hugs. Y'all can thank me any time lmao. 
> 
> I HC THE LIONS ADOPT THEIR PALADINS. SHIRO IS CHILD BECAUSE HE'S ONLY 6. Y'ALL CAN PRY THIS FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS.
> 
> Y'all can also thank the song 'History Maker' for this chapter. It fed my need for hope and love and light and all the good shit in this universe. It got me on a high and I don't wanna come off it. Also, I listened to 'Splash Free' and 'Future Fish' while putting in the italics and bolds in ao3. I feel so accomplished, guys. It's happening.
> 
> AAAAA ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT. THEN I CAN FINALLY SLEEP WITHOUT DREAMING ABOUT WRITING THIS FIC. I'll dream about writing other fics lol. Yes, I do dream I've written entire chapters in my sleep, but when I wake up and see what needs to be edited, I find it all gone and be all like 'I had ONE JOB ಥʖ̯ಥ'.
> 
> This has been a trip. Next chapter's probably gonna feel a bit like an epilogue but I swear it'll still be important. I'll have to figure out what I want to write, tho. Evidently, I can't leave Lance to McDie™ this late in the game; that would make me a terrible host. Plus, Lance is my memelord and Pidge is his squire. I need them to tag-team in the next fic with Lotor. (God I can't wait for Lotor to join us. He's been my endgame this whole time like you wouldn't understand I need a healthy Keith x Lotor so bad in my life, if you read 'Earth Angel' - voltron fic - from fanfic.net, you would understand)
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading. I hope y'all have a lovely day! ♥♥♥


	32. This Chapter is Longer than my Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of this madness. Thanks for sticking with me this long. It's been a bumpy ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the 2 month wait. As you can see, this is a long-ass chapter and I will never make anybody wait this long again if only to save myself from writing long-ass chapters.
> 
> I mean, I know I have a minimum wordcount of 1000 per chapter, but this was ridiculous.

Lance was right. 

“A-a- _a-choo!_ ”

He caught Keith’s cold.

Shivering in what remained of his clothes from Earth, Lance tried to nestle himself deeper into the blanket nest Pidge had dutifully made for him. No matter how bad his body shook, nor how many blankets were piled around him, it was like he was creating ice from the inside. Every breath in was like swallowing molten lava; breathing out nothing more than particles of frost. 

He didn’t know which hurt more.

Every muscle and nerve sang with chill and strain and _pain_. He felt nauseous with every shift; every creak his joints made, dull waves of pain shooting directly into his brain. He would’ve cried if the tears didn’t stick to his lashes in clumps of glittering snowflakes. 

_Stupid Keith and his stupid cold and this stupid chill I’m freezing—_

A warm presence butted into the corners of his tender psyche, melting some of the frost as it settled around him. Slowly, bit by bit, the ice thawed, allowing his tears to streak his cheeks with snowmelt. It lost that edge of pain, replaced with a more bearable ache that allowed his shaking limbs to finally go lax. 

_Finally…_

His head lolled to the side against his pillow, eyes closing to help him focus on letting Red in completely. She was a candle to the chill; one which Lance found himself curling into if only to give himself further reprieve. Warmth filled each of his bones, reaching outward to fend off the chill in his limbs and ease out the aches that had made a home there. 

He sighed. 

He was still cold, but at least now, breathing wasn’t the definition of torture. 

_Good kitty…_

In thinking of kitties and soft fuzzy warm balls of fur, Lance heard the tell-tale hiss of his room’s door opening. Cracking an eye open revealed none other than Keith. Making eye-contact, the guy seemed pretty surprised. 

“You’re up.” Was all he said, galactic eyes looking more like shimmering amethysts in this light. Lance sighed.

“Yup. You gonna come in? You’re letting in the cold air.” He cringed at the sound of his flat voice. Lance didn’t have the energy for sass, or anything beyond a good long nap. He didn’t think he could start fights or finish them in his state, let alone bicker to save his life. 

He just didn’t care.

Now that he was pleasantly warm, all things considered, Lance felt it was only right that he was allowed to doze off. He’d woken in the cold; the least he could do was snooze while he had even a smidgen of warmth.

Keith didn’t let him. 

_Of course._

Still, he didn’t begrudge the resident Mullet for entering his room; not when he closed the door behind him. The air seemed to settle, tepid air filling the room from the vents and an added person providing precious body heat to help things along. Said body made its way to Lance’s bedside, parking that glorious ass beside his torso. 

Keith reached out, hesitant and awkward in every movement, until he laid a hand on the side of Lance’s head. He sighed into the warmth and weight; its effects similar to the red lion’s presence. Keith didn’t card his fingers through Lance’s hair like literally everyone else would’ve done. Instead, he just kept it there, a steady weight to help ground him. 

Lance didn’t admit how it actually helped.

Not even to _himself_. 

“Where’s the tin-can?” Lance asked, noticing the minion’s absence after a beat. Keith huffed but didn’t reprimand him.

_Weird_.

“Axel’s recharging. Apparently Droids sleep, too.” Keith replied.

“An oversight,” Lance quipped.

“He’s perfect.” 

Keith’s accompanying nod made Lance’s lips twitch up into an easy smile. He’d missed these moments they’d shared when Keith had gone to join the Blades.

Even the heated arguments were better than the silence.

They were better than the reminders of being a burden. 

_Definitely better than being the clone’s favourite punching bag…_

Something must’ve shown on his face; maybe his lips tilted the wrong way or his eyes looked a little glassy. Either way, Mullet found an excuse to get his attention. 

“You doing okay?” Keith asked, voice not even a murmur. Amethyst eyes swirled in the partial darkness, mesmerising Lance as they danced across his face. He barely heard the question, too focussed on impossibly inhuman eyes reminding him that beauty wasn’t found in just one gender.  

Lance hummed.  

Apparently that wasn’t a real answer, because Keith tapped his head a moment later, causing jolts of nerve pain to web across his skull. His eyes no longer held that same appeal. 

Lance _hissed_. 

Keith retracted his hand, protecting it against his chest in case Lance decided to pounce.  

Lance debated it.  

With a huff, he flung his arms around Keith’s waist in a sought-after cuddle, avoiding the knife strapped there but moving so his face was pressed into the small of his back where a pocket of warmth greeted him. He felt Keith’s muscles stiffen under him before slowly relaxing. Lance sighed as one of Keith’s hands tentatively positioned itself atop his head, back arching to better accommodate him. He nuzzled his face closer into the dark material of Keith’s shirt, pleasantly surprised by the soft texture and sweet smell of Altean fabric softener.  

“Oh… _kay_?” Keith drawled; confusion palpable but without discomfort. Lance took it in stride, much like his new teddy bear had.  

“Warm.” He said, eyelids drifting shut. Over the last week or so of Keith’s recovery, this had become almost commonplace, similar to how life with his siblings had been back before the Garrison.  

‘ _You don’t have to ask every time, Lance._ ’ 

‘ _Y-you sure? I mean—_ ’ 

‘ _Yeah. I trust you._ ’ 

That conversation still made him a little misty-eyed. Vulnerable eyes had pinned him, breathless beneath the weight of Keith’s past as though he’d lived it alongside him. All he’d wanted was to scoop him up and make sure nobody ever touched him again. How anybody could hurt a person that way, for that long— 

And Keith found the courage to trust them, after all that. 

_Goddammit, Keith._  

Lance couldn’t help but feel the weight of that trust on his shoulders; the sense of duty to keep it close, hidden, protected.  

To never abuse it. 

He promised himself he never would.  

_Ever._  

“Pidge wanted to gather everyone in the lounge, now that we’ve had a quintant to rest.” Keith said without rush. It was obvious that he was just fine being Lance’s body pillow. Slowly, carefully, Keith’s fingers began to rub small circles into Lance’s scalp, eliciting a small sigh and a tighter hug. Lance could get used to this. “ _Now_ , who’s the cat?” Keith teased, smile in his voice.  

“You are,” Lance said, not missing a beat.  

“No, you.”  

Lance blinked. 

“D… did you just—did you just ‘ _no, you_ ’ me?” He asked, the incredulity in his voice muffled into Keith’s back. Keith didn’t stop his ministrations. 

“…that’s a thing?”  

Keith’s response was filled with so much innocence it almost made Lance laugh out loud. He settled for a short huff; just grateful it didn’t come out as frost this time. To his relief, there wasn’t any pain, either.  

It always caught him off-guard how detached Keith was from social norms. Lance knew how confusing it could be, especially at first. After all, it had taken him _months_ to understand how memes worked when he’d first discovered them, then months more to find what was _popular_ and _normal_ and try to work with them.  

He forgot that Keith had to work for things too, people-skills notwithstanding.  

Lance was only happy that he could teach his leader something; that he could _provide_ something to someone he looked up to. Now that he’d finally drilled in his head that the rivalry-thing was non-existent, Keith stopped looking like a milestone and more like a friend. 

A brother. 

An _older_ brother. 

It helped that Keith was so protective of everyone, in that awkward endearing way. Kinda like now… 

An image – hazy like looking through a blurry camera lens – showed Keith kneeling beside him, pulling him up and checking him over for injuries. It was an old memory, probably back from Arus or something, but it was there. 

_‘Lance, are you okay?’_  

_‘We did it… we are a good team…’_  

The memory was awash in reds and blues and shades of dim purple. 

Lance snorted.  

Talk about _aesthetics_. 

Lance settled into the scalp massage, arms slowly going lax as time stretched forward. He felt each muscle in both him and Keith uncoil as they simultaneously took in the peace and quiet of the room. If Lance really listened, he could almost hear air flowing through the vents, every breath they took. The atmosphere was heavy but resembled the sweet side to molasses. 

He swore he could sleep… right… here— 

_The door hissed open._  

“Up and at ‘em, assholes. I called you half a varga ago.” Pidge’s voice was sharp but bored, instantly disturbing the local wildlife in its natural habitat. Lance jerked his head up from Keith’s back, eyes instantly assaulted by the bright lighting out in the hallway.  

He groaned. 

“I think he wants five more minutes,” Keith supplied, hand stilling against Lance’s head. Now, only his thumb moved in small strokes across his crown.  

_Damn straight, I want five more minutes_ , Lance thought, hiding his face back in the small of Keith’s back. He felt the muscles in his neck untense as he accepted the caress on his head.  

“He can wait. We aren’t leaving Arus for another movement.” Pidge said, arms no doubt crossed as she debated on how to bend her teammates to her will. Lance rolled his eyes beneath his eyelids. 

“If we’re not leaving Arus, why do we have to rush _now_?” He complained; voice muffled but legible. He wasn’t looking forward to leaving his pocket of warmth. 

“Because Kolivan’s leaving soon. _That’s_ why.” Pidge sighed, exasperated. Lance felt Keith’s back straighten from its relaxed slouch. 

“He’s leaving? When?”  

It actually hurt Lance to hear Keith sound so small. It was almost like the room had swallowed his voice, replacing it with something that couldn’t possibly be Keith. He tightened his arms around Keith’s waist, earning a small pat on his head for his efforts. 

Apparently, it hurt Pidge too, because she was pretty hesitant to answer. 

“About… two vargas from now? Three? He said something came up…” 

“Oh.” That was all Keith said. His back was still tense against Lance’s face. He didn’t want to imagine what kind of expression was playing across his friend’s face; somehow it just made it worse. 

Apparently, Keith had been pretty much booted from the Blade of Marmora; or the missions, at least. 

Even thinking about it made Lance wince.  

He knew how much the Blade meant to Keith. 

When a few ticks passed and nobody made any moves to speak, Lance figured it really was time to go. He didn’t really feel like sleeping now that the mood was all wrong. 

Lance used Keith’s back as a leaning post; climbing up the jacketed spine and hooking his hands on Keith’s thin shoulders to keep himself upright. Instantly, the chill seemed to creep back in, starting in his bones and trickling outward. Lance took hold of his fluffiest blue blanket, throwing it over his shoulders so that he was bundled underneath, despite it doing nothing to fight the oncoming cold. He leaned solidly into Keith’s body, closing his eyes for the briefest moment as he stole what warmth was offered before nudging his friend onward. 

Keith didn’t move. 

Lance nearly asked if he was now the man who can’t be moved, then he caught two particularly piercing sets of eyes studying him as if he were going to fold in on himself right then and there.  

He huffed. 

“You said we gotta go,” Lance said, surprised he even had to explain himself. “Well, I’m up. _Vamos_.” He shooed them with a hand, feigning irritation.  

Keith looked at Pidge, as if waiting for her opinion. Pidge put a fist up to her chin, eyes darted down in thought. She furrowed her brow. 

Lance was filled with a sudden influx of dread. 

That was the same look she got when Keith’s fever spiked. 

“I guess… this is as good a time as any…” She trailed off, eyes bouncing back up to study Lance. He didn’t move; not wanting to mess with anything she was looking for. Her gaze darted to Keith. She gave a nod. “He ain’t blue anymore.” She said. This seemed to be a code, as Keith instantly stood from Lance’s bedside and offered a hand to help him up. Lance glanced between them. 

“Da-ba-dee, da-ba-die?” He tested, taking Keith’s hand. From her spot by the door, Pidge snorted. Keith just looked hopelessly lost. Lance was hoisted from his bed, instantly falling into Keith’s chest as his legs gave way. Keith hesitantly pulled Lance into him so that he wouldn’t fall. From the new position, he patted Keith on the arm. “I’ll explain when you’re older,” he promised, earning himself a small smile and a quiet snort from his new hero. 

Keith took one look down at Lance’s legs, watching them shake despite not holding any weight, then scooped him up bridal-style.  

Lance squeaked in surprise. Surprise made way for a contentment that wasn’t quite his own. The red lion urged him to lean closer to the controlled inferno that was now Keith Kogane, which Lance was all too willing to listen to if only to beat back the cold that threatened to take him once more. He didn’t realise he’d buried his face in the crook of Keith’s neck until a moment later, when red’s presence stopped whiting out his own thoughts. Pidge and Keith both looked at him in surprise. Lance was with them on this one.  

He coughed.  

Now… 

Lance _would_ have felt embarrassed… 

But now he didn’t have to walk all the way to the lounge. 

And Keith was _warm_. 

So _score_. 

Lance meant – Keith _also_ smelled kinda nice; like strawberries and spice. (Yes, Lance knew it was a weird combination. No, he was not complaining.) So at the very least, he was glad his portable heater had more than one thing going for him.  

“Onward, noble steed.” Lance said, poking a hand out temporarily to jut in the general direction of the door. 

“We out!” Pidge tagged in, taking the rear as Keith diligently obeyed with nothing more than a soft laugh and a murmured ‘ _is that even English?_ ’ 

Lance smiled, leaning his head back until it rest against Keith’s shoulder. It was kind of weird being carried by someone shorter than him, but because it was Keith, he didn’t feel as weird about it. From his position, he felt every beat Keith’s heart gave; every breath he took. It was a languid tempo, despite the strain of carrying him. 

He sighed. 

This was nice. 

~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~.~{+}~ 

Lance was light. 

_Really_ light. 

It kind of reminded Keith of that time he caught Allura when they both jacked the same pod to see if Zarkon was tracking Voltron through them. She’d been impossibly light, too. It was kinda like they had bird bones; all hollow.  

Keith paused. 

There was one thing wrong with that thought. 

Allura was _Altean_. 

_Lance_ was Human.  

Keith had hauled Shiro’s ass enough times during sparring matches in the Garrison training rooms to know that Lance was _way_ too light. The comparison was close enough; Shiro hadn’t always been so beefed up. It used to be like picking up a medium-sized boulder. Now, Shiro was just shy of an adult hippo. 

And what an image that made…

Keith mentally shook himself out of his thoughts, mildly surprised by how derailed he’d become.  

_Right_. 

Lance was feather-light. 

_Has he eaten anything?_  

“Have you eaten anything?” Keith asked, blurting it out just as the thought flittered into his mind. The last movement of lazing about had really laxed him out, especially with Allura banning him from the training rooms, making it difficult to hold down a solid thought for more than a few minutes. He _really_ needed to get back out in the field. 

Preferably before he turned into a goldfish.  

Peacetime wasn’t exactly his _best friend_ … 

“Uh… maybe? I don’t remember” Lance shrugged as best he could, given his position. Keith adjusted his grip so he didn’t drop him. He sent Lance a pointed look. Lance caught it with ease, even if he looked a little dazed, head weakly lolled against his shoulder. “Hunk’ll fix me up. Don’t worry your fabulous mullet, Mullet.”  

Keith was not reassured.  

“You’re too light.” He said, pinning his friend with a scrutinising glare. He might not be too good with people, but even _he_ could see that Lance’s face was thinner than it was a couple days ago and that his clothes hung off him awkwardly, like extra blankets. He could feel his lips turn down in a deepening frown. “Way too thin.” 

“You were the same, Keith,” Pidge piped up. “It’s just that you had a raging fever but Lance is ice cold. Allura says that reaction is quite common with quintessence donors.”  

“Yeah, but we were _all_ giving our quintessence to bring Shiro back.” Keith pointed out, trying to recall the event through his questionable memory. This had been their conversation before Pidge had asked him to get Lance.  

“ _We_ were patching the body up. _Lance_ was the battery to our machine.” She countered frankly. “Heck, he _was_ the machine. We were nothing more than worker bees. _Cogs_.” 

Keith furrowed his brows. He didn’t follow. 

“I thought you said we all contributed, though.” He tried to recall how Kolivan was saved, and how that differed from Shiro. There were a lot of differing factors, but it was still bringing someone back from the dead, right? 

“We did,” Pidge conceded, “last time was different, though. I don’t think Kolivan was dead nearly as long as the clone was, even if we take the cryopod’s preservation setting into consideration. It’s crazy that it worked at all.” She hummed. “This ‘ _bringing people back from the dead_ ’ thing is kinda wonky. I think we should avoid it for the time being, or at least until we understand it a little more.”  

Keith couldn’t agree more.  

“Ditto.” Lance called out, snuggling further into Keith’s chest. “Man, if this is what a drained battery feels like, I feel bad for all my childhood lamplights.” 

Keith raised an eyebrow.  

_That_ didn’t sound right. 

“You mean a ‘ _nightlight_ ’, right?” He asked, wondering why Lance had to pull out the fancy language this late in the game.  

Lance _scoffed_. 

“No, I mean a ‘ _lamplight_ ’. They’re different.”  

Keith rolled his eyes at the stubborn pout on his cargo’s face.  

“… I’m pretty sure it’s still a ‘ _nightlight_ ’, Lance.”  

“ _Nuh-uh_.” Lance shook his head vehemently, the motion rocking into Keith’s frame. Keith contemplated dropping him. 

Just _once_. 

“Nightlights are for _kids_. Lamplights don’t need to be plugged in, and you bop ‘em on the head to turn ‘em on and off.” Lance continued through Keith’s less-than-ideal thoughts. Keith shook his head. 

“That’s still a nightlight.” He simply said, smirking when Lance scoffed and did what Pidge had once called the ‘ _Lin Beifong hand gesture_ ’. 

Whatever _that_ meant… 

“Uh… Keith?” Pidge’s voice broke through the distraction, making him turn around and see that she was standing outside an open doorway. She jerked her thumb in the door’s direction. “Everyone’s waiting in the lounge?” she said slowly, as if trying to jog his memory. 

Keith’s mouth made a little ‘ _o_ ’ shape. 

He’d completely forgotten. 

Lance laughed. 

“You… you forgot where we were going.” He snickered. “My _hero_.” 

Keith scowled. Heat crawled up his neck and settled on his face. His ears burned. 

“I’ll drop you,” he warned, trudging back to the open door and walking in before Pidge. Lance didn’t stop sniggering, going so far as to poke at Keith’s furiously flushed cheek with his own icy fingers. 

“No, you won’t,” Lance said through his hiccupping laughs, entire face bright and happy and _alive_. A bubble of warmth grew in Keith’s stomach, soft and kind of uncomfortable.  

Keith sighed. 

“No, I won’t,” He conceded, earning himself a smug look from one very cold paladin and an exasperated eye-roll from Pidge. The banter’s familiarity was placating to the scattered mindset he’d adopted this past movement. 

It was nice. 

Keith accepted this strange blooming feeling for all it was worth. Generally, seeing his friends – his _family_ – try to match entire star systems in radiance was enough to provoke these bubbles of contentment and warmth. It reminded him that he was welcome here; that they wanted him just as much as he wanted them. That they wanted to share these moments with him just as much as he wanted to be there for them.   

He didn’t have to run, anymore. 

He never had to run in the first place. 

It made him feel kind of stupid. Coran was right; hindsight was the pinnacle of foresight. 

Entering the lounge almost made him want to do a _180*_ right back out, if only out of reflex. Everyone who lived on the Castle of Lions took up the sofas, leaving only a few spots for Keith, Lance and Pidge to squeeze themselves in to a pretty tight fit. Kolivan had wisely positioned himself against a far wall, overlooking a projecting monitor of the surrounding meadows of Arus in its night cycle.  

The planet was so similar to Earth, Keith felt his heart tug painfully in his chest. He wasn’t one for homesickness, but it was strange to be so far from everything that reminded him of his barely-there childhood and still have aching reminders of what he’d lost too soon.  

Lance would call this healthy.  

Allura would insist he let himself grieve. 

Keith didn’t want to grieve something he knew he’d never truly had.  

Instead of focussing on the conflicting emotions inside of him, he zeroed in on Kolivan’s slouched form, shoulders hunched and mouth cut deep into a jaw-clenched scowl.  

…

_That wasn’t right_. 

Keith knew; something must’ve happened. Something _big_.  

_He said something came up…_ Pidge had said, hesitant in a way Keith could now see was a frail mask for the knowledge she was privy to. Keith didn’t begrudge her. He was more concerned for why the Blade of Marmora were willing to bring in an outsider to deal with internal matters.  

If it were external, he would’ve known.  

Keith tried to let that thought soothe him.  

Without missing a beat, he strode down the steps into the throng of his family. He was quick to settle Lance into Hunk’s side, feeling a small smile tweak at his lips as Lance all but sunk into Hunk’s marshmallow hug. Pidge flit under his arm, diving for the spot next to Matt who sat flush with Shiro to make room for her. All that was left was the small space between Shiro and Allura. 

Keith felt heat creep up his neck.  

He still hadn’t gotten over tripping into her in nothing but a _bedsheet_. 

Still, he sat in his designated seat, almost squeezing Shiro out of his own as he tried to give Allura as much room as possible. He really didn’t want to cramp her in; not after everything she’d done for him. Keith was pretty sure she wouldn’t mind either way, but it was still the principle that counted.  

“Is that everyone?” Allura asked absentmindedly, doing a muttered headcount and pointing to everyone as she went. Finally, she pointed to Kolivan and cleared her throat, dropping her hand and nodding his way. “I believe everyone is here now, Kolivan. You wished to discuss something?” She prompted. There was a familial openness to her tone she normally reserved for the paladins and Coran. Keith was pleasantly surprised to see it extended to the Galran Rebel as well.  

She’d grown a lot since he’d revealed his Galra heritage. 

That felt like a lifetime ago.  

“Yes, Princess.” Kolivan nodded, breaking Keith from his thoughts as he straightened from his slouch against the wall. Keith was quick to tune in. “Our eyes on Lotor have led us to conduct a full-scale investigation on his recent activities in what remains of Daibazaal. It appears that he has attempted to continue his mother’s work; even going so far as to construct a device that would re-open the inter-reality rift which had initially doomed our planet.” 

Allura gaped, eyes widening in what could only be described as bone-deep horror. Keith could sympathise. He never forgot the story of Zarkon’s fall, nor how the inter-reality rift was its crux. 

It was almost sickening; had the Lions never came to be, there would be no ten-thousand-year war to begin with.  

Had there been no comet, no lions, no _Voltron,_ the universe would’ve never felt the impact of Haggar’s _komar_ , nor the extremes the Empire was willing to go to harvest this universe’s finite supply of quintessence. 

The universe never would’ve needed the help from the one thing that caused this mess; it never would’ve needed Voltron. 

_Had there been no Lions, he probably never would’ve been born…_  

That was a grim thought. 

It was probably best if he left the reality stuff to Pidge and Hunk. Maybe Slav, too. They seemed to understand it better, anyways. His head was too foggy to unravel all the implications of this train of thought, right now.  

“How far is he along?” Shiro said. His tone was deep and full, bringing Keith back to the _here_ and _now_. He almost leaned into his mentor’s larger frame to cement that in his mind. He refrained, if only to prove to himself that he didn’t need physical contact to feel complete. 

Keith tried to ignore how bad he was at lying, even to _himself_. 

That was embarrassing on a whole other level.  

No, he would _never_ tell Lance. He still couldn’t believe the _purring_ thing got out.  

“We have confirmed that the device is almost complete. Paladin Pidge,” He nodded his head in Pidge’s direction, who straightened in her seat, “would you do the honours?”  

“On it.” She saluted, bringing out her wrist console and typing into it at an electrical pace. The lighting in the lounge dimmed and a projector in the middle of the paladins lit up. A strange gateway stood tall, even on the platform. There were four bipedal forms standing before it.  

_Four…_  

Something about that bothered him. 

“Uh…” Lance piped up from under Hunk’s arms, “is it just me, or are they short a person?” 

“Yeah, where’s lizard-girl?” Hunk’s brow furrowed in worry. “You think she’s on recon or something?” 

“General Narti is dead.” Kolivan bowed his head. Keith did the same, despite his shock. It was a show of respect in Galra customs; Narti really was an amazing fighter, even Keith could see that.  

The others were stunned to silence.

The atmosphere quickly filled with cable-thick tension. Keith wasn’t sure how to break it. 

He didn’t have to. 

“Kolivan,” Allura raised her head to meet Kolivan eye to eye. “The quintessence that comes from an inter-reality rift corrupts those around it.” Her lips turned down further into her frown. “Voltron may not be able to come close without one of its paladins succumbing.” She bowed her head, eyes shimmering with regret. “We have all seen what such a fate beholds.” 

Kolivan nodded. “Of course, Princess.” His tone gave nothing away, nor did his stoic appearance. Still, Keith could see the slight shift in his posture which indicated he wouldn’t insist. 

Still, it looked like Allura wasn’t done. 

“Should we have an opportunity to detain him,” she raised her head, bejewelled eyes shimmering with fire. “You may expect us to keep a close eye on him.”  

Kolivan blinked. 

He slowly nodded. 

“The Blades thank you. We do not want another catastrophe such as that ten thousand years ago.” Kolivan said. Every word was laced with truth. 

“Nor do we.” Allura nodded. There was a solemn acknowledgement between the leaders; between friends. It was obvious that they’d grown to respect each other in the short time since they’d met. Gone were the days of terse agreements based on necessity. Now, the Coalition and the Blades really looked like a well-oiled machine. It was a wonder why it hadn’t happened sooner.  

Keith guessed some things only came with time. 

Suddenly, the holoprojection on the panel in the centre of the lounges flickered out and the lights brightened. Keith had to blink a few times to clear away afterimages and non-existent shadows in the corners of his peripheral. His eye caught on to movement in front of him. 

He blinked. 

_Oh_.

Pidge was standing.  

She cleared her throat, waiting for everyone’s attention before fixing her eyes on her wrist console.  

“Since this is the last time we’re all probably gonna be in the same room at the same time,” she said, “I figured we should discuss Keith’s love spat with the black lion—” she obviously ignored Keith’s spluttered objection, “and how it’s spreading.” Pidge nodded her head in Lance’s direction without shifting her eyes from the screen. Lance gave a two-finger salute.  

“I’m all for a walkthrough.” The frozen paladin chimed, trying to hide his shivers as best he could. Keith frowned. He could’ve sworn Lance had stopped shaking when he’d been closer— 

_Oh_. 

His quintessence still had a lot of fire to it.  

He was probably a walking heater to Lance. 

Still, before he could offer to swap with Hunk, Shiro spoke up. 

“Does this have anything to do with how you crammed my consciousness into my clone’s body?” 

“Yup.” Pidge said, popping the ‘ _p_ ’. She took a deep breath, activating a blank wall projector above the stairwell with a few taps against her wrist monitor. “So, a lot of the information of what you’re about to see here is gathered thanks to the efforts of the Blades of Marmora. They apparently had a whole archive of ancient knowledge that even _Kolivan_ hadn’t known about until a couple quintants ago.” 

An image flickered onto the projector, depicting a planet similar to Earth in so many ways it was almost painful for a majority of the paladins of Voltron. The only difference was that there was more land than water, and the continents were all wrong. Keith recognised it instantly. 

“Planet Kamen, everybody,” Pidge announced, for those who hadn’t known. “It’s atmosphere and plant-life replicate those found in the Amazon.” Keith resisted his urge to shiver. 

He was _never_ going back there.  

Fuck Haggar and her choice in tropical planets. 

Keith mentally added Kamen to his blacklist, avoiding his hitlist by a mere hairsbreadth. Some part of him hissed at how Voltron wasn’t one for getting rid of entire planets.   

_Damn_.  

“Two movements ago, Kolivan sent a team here to gather quintessence samples from Haggar’s outpost located _here_ ,” Pidge indicated with a red crosshair, zooming in on the planet until the charred remains of the facility came into view. “The mission was a success; the only hiccup being Keith blowing the joint to kingdom come.” That last part was said in a drawl, causing everyone around him to roll their eyes and trade thinly-veiled knowing smiles.  

Keith flushed, but said nothing.  

“The explosion was enough to mess with his suit,” Pidge continued, reading intently at the data flickering across her console. “According to these readings, several insulation components were damaged in the blast, and the suit’s mental activation panels were fried.” She paused. “It was a miracle your face wasn’t burnt off…” She hummed, bringing up an unfortunately familiar yellow puffball of a plant. “Then there’s the space catnip.” 

Lance snickered, as did Matt and Hunk. Shiro’s brow furrowed as a small uncertain smile pulled at his lips. Keith felt his mouth pull into a snarl— 

“He’s allergic”  

Pidge was met with several wide-eyed stares. She met every single one of them. Lance stuttered. 

“W-wait, so you mean—” 

“Keith is allergic to catnip. Yes.” 

“But I thought he was sick! You know; _space cold_.” Lance whispered those last two words, darting his eyes in Keith’s direction as if proposing a new conspiracy theory. A bubble of irritation rose in Keith’s chest.  

“I _was_ sick.” 

“He _was_ sick” 

Pidge and Keith’s voice melded into one, perfectly timed and creating an air of dissonance between their tones. While Pidge was calm, cool, collected; Keith darkened it with a growl. 

Lance ignored them. 

“So then why am _I_ sick?” He groused; hands thrown up in exasperation. Keith had to take a breath to calm himself. 

_Patience yields focus_. 

“Not _that_ kind of sick” Pidge said, “Keith got a serious bout of hyperthermia. Sunstroke.”  

Keith furrowed his brow. 

“I wasn’t in the sun, though.” He said, putting a hand to his chin and balancing the elbow with the other hand in an effort to remember his time on Kamen.  

“Another word for it is heatstroke. Same thing, different name” Pidge explained. Keith nodded as understanding crossed his features. 

“Ugh. How come _Keith_ got to get super-hot for _his_ thing? I wanna be hot too…” Lance trailed off, eyes glazing over before refocusing. 

Keith threw up his hands, but otherwise kept his exasperation to himself. He took another breath, this one deeper, and fought the urge to massage the budding headache that was building in the bridge of his nose.  

“You’re moulting.” Pidge deadpanned. At the general air of confusion enveloping a majority of the room, she sighed. “According to the Blades’ collective data, your quintessence is evolving; kinda like a snake shedding its old skin or a caterpillar turning into a butterfly.” 

“So I’m a butterfly,” Lance puffed out a cloud of frost. “Well, at least I’m pretty.” 

Pidge opened her mouth, probably to retort, when she paused. She narrowed her eyes, intently staring at Lance’s frame shaking anew. She glanced over at Keith, as though mentally asking if he’d noticed. 

He nodded. 

“Uh, guys?” Hunk said haltingly, “Lance is cold. Like, _really_ cold.” He tightened his grip on his friend, worry only increasing as Lance’s whole body audibly creaked at the movement. Lance choked on a gasp. Pidge was beside them in less than a tick, dispelling her wrist console with practiced ease between blinks. She now had a scanner in her hands, letting the light brush over Lance’s rigid form.  

She took a deep breath, betraying nothing. 

Another scan. 

Again. 

_Again_ — 

“What is it?” Shiro asked, noticing something in the way Pidge tightened her grip on her scanner. Her eyes darted from under her glasses, landing on Keith. He froze. 

“Lance won’t connect with the red lion.” She whispered. “There’s not even a hint of her quintessence; not like how you and Black meshed. He’s _freezing_.” 

Lance choked again, face contorting into a sick mix of pain and exhaustion as the air around him began to thicken in a miasma around him. Hunk pulled away, clutching his chest where Lance had once leaned against, fighting a cough.  

Allura gasped. 

Hunk’s visible skin which had rest against Lance’s frame was frost-touched red, slicked with a layer of unmelting ice. Black welts lined this arms.   

“Hunk, swap.” Keith ordered, thankful that Hunk didn’t hesitate to follow instructions as he slipped into Hunk’s previous position, cradling Lance’s suddenly still form. Keith nearly pulled away. 

It was so _cold_. 

He breathed in bitterly cold air, focusing on the gentle warmth within him that the black lion had taken the time to cultivate. When he breathed out, it was warm and humid.  

Soft. 

Internally, he felt along the connection between Lance and the lions. His heart painfully throbbed in his chest when he saw the line connecting Lance to the red lion empty. No quintessence was being fed into him, nor from Lance to her; not like with him and Black. Keith could see that the red lion was distressed, trying to offer her flames however she could.  

The line remained dark. It was almost like Lance was pushing it away. 

Keith felt panic build in his chest.  

Pidge was right.  

The revelation wasn’t something that brought the usual well of relief.  

“Pidge,” Keith paused in his task in warming the air around them, looking up to ask, “what could’ve triggered this?” 

“I-I don’t know.” She looked so small, staring down at her scanner, reading the results for what had to be the fifth time. “With you, it was rejecting Shiro’s death and your allergies. With him, I—” She cut herself off, biting her lip.  

Keith thought quick. It was obvious that Pidge’s panic was spreading, even to Kolivan who’d taken a couple steps closer as if to offer some sort of assistance. He took a deep breath, calling on the black lion’s presence within his mind. It brushed him back, giving him a general feeling of reassurance and a beckoning to the red lion’s hanger. 

Keith nodded. 

“We need to move this conversation to the red lion’s hanger.” He said, countenance calm despite the tension rippling under his skin. “If being close to the lions worked for me, maybe it’ll work for him.” A wave of confidence spread between the group; an obvious trust in his reasoning and intent. Keith felt the weight of their trust on him and vowed not to betray it.  

He wouldn’t. 

_Couldn’t._  

Not again. 

He grit his teeth, winding an arm under Lance’s knees and another around his torso, pulling his lanky body close as the ice seemed to thaw. Not a creak sounded, nor did Lance cry out again. He was dazed in Keith’s arms; limp and unseeing through dull half-lidded eyes as Keith stood from the lounge. He hadn’t even noticed the movement, just sighed out frostbitten air and leaned his ice-slick forehead into Keith’s neck. The chill puckered goosebumps across his flesh.  

Keith ignored it. 

He was good at that. 

Keith barely noticed as the others rallied behind him, too focused on the too-cold body in his arms. Like before, the chill seemed to thaw in his presence.  

His legs carried him on their own, answering to the intrinsic direction by habit and the black lion’s insistence to the red lion’s hanger. A faint bonfire could be felt within him, despite his bond with the red lion being so faint. As he came closer, it answered his own inner warmth, calling out to him much like the black lion’s gentle guidance. It, too, pointed to the red lion’s hanger. He sped up, wanting to satisfy the sudden need to _be there_. It was almost like the blue lion’s pull in the desert all those phoebs ago.  

It wanted him to come. 

It wanted him close. 

He tightened his hold on Lance, wondering if he could feel it too. The pull almost clouded his mind, almost pulled him under the swell of not-emotions, intent, _instinct_ ; the only thing keeping him aware was the sheer experience and familiarity of Red’s touch.  

He’d recognise that searing heat anywhere.  

As if rewarding his recognition, Keith found himself standing mere inches from Red’s maw. 

He blinked. 

Blue sandstone met blinding gold; for the briefest moments, all Keith could see was Red’s visors, gleaming and _alive_. He mentally reached out, aching to feel that raging wildfire within him. To his disappointment, Red’s fire was little more than embers to him, granting him warmth without life.  

He told himself that was okay.  

Keith ignored the rush that said it really wasn’t. 

He wasn’t here for himself, anyways. 

He was here for Lance.  

Looking down, Keith saw Lance’s eyelids flicker. His body was about as warm as marble against his chest but it was still better than ice. Tepid air passed between Lance’s lips, ghosting Keith’s neck at an even tempo.  

Unquestioningly, the red lion opened its mouth. Its ramp lowered, allowing Keith full access. Dim vermillion lights dotted the walls, giving him enough light to see by as the soft glow brushed against his warm skin like tiny suns. As comforting as it was, Keith kept his head, moving to the back of the red lion’s hold.  

He found the area he remembered waking up in all those quintants ago, feeling hazy with forgotten heat and the phantom touch of Kolivan’s arms. Keith saw that a couple of the fabric flowers Lance had made were scattered across the ground, still scented and preserved in their hand-made beauty. Without further ado, he pressed his back into the far wall and slid down, pulling Lance close. Red’s quintessence reached out through the walls and floor, visibly seeping into skin and bone until Keith felt like he was sweating internally. It was a kind of stuffy he’d almost forgotten from his time in the desert.   

Lance stirred.  

“Wha…” He mumbled, curling further into Keith’s chest and shuddering. He pressed his temple into Keith’s collar, arms curling protectively around his own stuttering torso. Keith tightened his hold on him. 

“Hey, man. You with me?” He asked, voice soft but audible. Lance pressed his face into his chest, letting him feel the nod more than see it. Keith brought a hand up to cradle Lance’s head to his chest when he felt it list off to the side. 

“H-hurts…” Lance groaned, breathing out crystallised frost. “M’chest’s iced over.” 

Something in those words made Keith’s own chest constrict as if a thousand spikes of ice had formed inside his chest cavity and each one was slowly spinning in cartwheels, cutting through muscle and tissue as they froze the blood within him. 

Keith blamed it on sympathy pains.  

Lance spasmed, crying out as something audibly cracked and shifted inside of him. There was a thin coat of sleet across his skin and sticking his clothes to Keith’s. The chill was palpable; it pervaded the cabin and Red’s cargo hold, threatening to pull them under. 

The red lion nudged Keith’s mind, urging him to _do something_. 

He didn’t know _what_. 

“You gotta let Red in, Lance.” Keith all but begged, feeling Lance tremble in his grip. With each spasm, the intermittent trembles slowed. Something told Keith that wasn’t a good sign. “She can help.” He bargained. “I swear, she can help.”  

“I can’t.” Lance croaked, voice barely above a gasp. He let out a choked yelp, eyes rolling so far up Keith was worried Lance would pass out mid-seizure.  

“What do you mean? Is there something getting in the way?” Keith asked, at a loss for what to do. He wondered where the hell Pidge was or why the others hadn’t come up with them. He could’ve sworn they’d trailed behind as he’d torn through the castle to get to Red. 

Where _were_ they? 

“The cold was getting to her.” Lance confessed, eyelids fluttering before finally resting shut as the constant warmth around their bubble of _cold cold freezing_ began to fade. It was soon replaced by an all-encompassing arctic chill that cut into Keith’s skin. “Like that.” The Cuban said. In Keith’s arms, his trembling turned into a weak shiver.  

A beat. 

Lance’s back arched in his hands; a whimper broke through the quiet.  

Red’s cargo hold warmed once more. 

“See?” Lance felt the need to speak through the pain, even as Keith could see him turn to ice in his arms.  

Fear clawed at him. 

It said Lance wouldn’t make it. 

“Keith, we can’t get in.” Pidge’s voice came from Keith’s wrist, where his biowatch sat snug. Keith looked down, seeing Pidge’s face on the screen. His brain grind to a halt, breathing almost impossible as the words sunk in. 

“Why not?” Keith choked out, feeling his panic increase tenfold.  

_He won’t make it_ , his mind told him, ever the pragmatic. Keith wished he didn’t believe it.  

“Red lion’s got her particle barrier up. We can’t come in until you guys can convince her it’s safe.” Pidge informed. Keith grit his teeth. 

_He won’t make it._  

“Might take a while,” He confessed. “Lance thinks he’s hurting her by letting her in.” 

“I _am_ ,” said popsicle protested, coughing around his words with harsh croaks and a shuddering gasp. Under his palms, Keith felt rather than saw Lance’s body go limp.  

Keith swore his heart nearly stopped. 

“Lance?” He asked, feeling very, _very_ small.   

No response. 

“Lance, wake up.” He pat Lance’s face, hoping it would jolt him into awareness. 

Nothing. 

“Keith, what’s going on?” Pidge’s voice was about as small as Keith felt in that moment, shaking into a near-stutter. He took a moment to look down at Lance’s pain-cinched face before physically turning his head to Pidge’s in the biowatch screen. 

“I think he passed out from the pain,” Keith said. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t— “Pidge, I—I don’t know what I’m doing.”  

“Keith, listen to me,” That was Shiro’s voice. The scene on the biowatch shifted until his mentor and brother’s face took it up. Keith willed himself to listen, even as his own breath turned to fog and Lance’s chill creeped through his clothes and skin and etched deep in his bones. “Everything’s gonna be okay. You got this—”  

“ _He’s dying_ .” Keith blurt out. There was a stillness in the call, a pause to Shiro’s features as he took in what Keith said. It suddenly got a little harder to breathe. “Shiro, he’s _dying_ and I—I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

Shiro’s face hardened. It softened. It turned into that reassuring expression that Keith had almost forgotten in his time with the Blades.  

His lower lip trembled. 

He struggled to breathe. 

“Keith, you’re doing great, I promise.” There goes that familiar, warm, uplifting tone that never failed to bolster and weaken Keith’s defences in one fell swoop. 

He’d missed it so much.  

So… _So_ much. 

“Hey. Hey buddy, you with me?” Shiro asked, prompting Keith to look up from where he’d hidden his face in Lance’s shoulder to stop himself from crying. He clenched his teeth to stop his chin from wobbling.  

“Y-yeah. I’m here.”  

“Okay, buddy. Pidge is gonna read out some of the Blades’ information she got on quintessence fusions. She thinks we got something that might help you out.” 

Keith took a breath. He nodded. 

“Okay.” It was a wheeze, he knew. Still, it was better than outright breaking because his _friend brother teammate family_ was _dying in his arms_. 

He took another shaky breath. When he looked back, Shiro’s face had been replaced by Pidge. She levelled him with a dependable stare. He met it. 

“What’ve you got for me?” 

“You’re not gonna like it.” She warned. Keith choked on a laugh. 

Understatement of the century. 

“I don’t like a lot of things.” He quipped; voice stronger than what he was feeling. Still, Pidge’s lips turned up just that much.  

“We need to go into the red lion’s mindscape.” She said. Before Keith could open his mouth, she ploughed on. “It should be safer to do than when we were at that Marmora base. Once we’re in, there’s this ceremony the Galra have adapted from back before cryopods were a thing. It has a 43-percent rate of success.”  

A beat. 

“You’re right; I hate that idea.” Keith said, already tightening his arms around Lance’s still body. He lifted a hand up to the boy’s neck, feeling for a pulse.  

It was slow. 

Too slow. 

He was way too cold. 

_He won’t make it._  

“Where do we start?” Keith asked, unable to ignore the thoughts that trickled in.  

He was usually better than this.  

“Uhh… right…” Pidge’s sudden bout of uncertainty did _wonders_ for Keith’s nerves. “About that…” 

“What? What’s wrong?” The air around them began to turn painful, making Keith wheeze as it felt like he was swallowing solid ice rather than actual air.  

“I did some digging around. Turns out _Lance_ was the one to initiate the whole mindmeld thing in the black lion’s mindscape, not you.” Her voice sounded underwater. Keith grit his teeth. 

“ _What?_ ” Dread curled around his oesophagus, forcing his brain to connect dots he wished didn’t exist. 

“Lance was the one to get us all in the same mindscape. He linked us up then shoved us into your side of the mindmeld. The Blades’ information can’t help us, here.”  

_He won’t make it…_  

Despair sunk his mind down until it pressed into Lance’s scalp. Tears prickled at the corners of searing eyes. Nobody knew how to freely enter the mindscape, let alone invite the others for a pool party. Sure, he did it instinctively while down with that fever, but this… 

He didn’t know what he was doing. 

Lance was— 

He won’t make it.

The realisation slammed into him like a sack of bricks every time. But this time— 

This time it felt final. 

Nobody knew what to do. They were lost; Lance being the only one who could’ve salvaged this mess. 

_Lance…_  

Losing his dad to a house fire all those years ago set a precedent. Losing Shiro virtually three times was pain beyond measure, but it was _expected_ . Losing Kolivan, even for a moment, all because he couldn’t just _dodge_ … 

It became harder to think; harder than it ever was. Keith tried not to let himself dwell on that. He looked down at the flakes of ice clinging diligently to Lance’s hair, poking painfully into Keith’s face.  

He nearly broke. 

Losing Lance, like this, in his arms as the red lion slowly froze from the inside out, without a way to bring him back— 

He couldn’t do it. 

Keith couldn’t let it end here.

_He never gave up on me, even when I wouldn’t listen to him in the mindscape. He still kept trying to get through to me._  

Keith didn’t know if he was thinking of Shiro or Kolivan or Lance, or even the brief figments of his dad’s memory he’d somehow managed to salvage after all these years. He just knew he couldn’t let it end, here. 

_You promised to stand by me, even when I made dumb mistakes_.  

Keith pulled Lance closer still, trying to share what little body heat he had left. Now, his own breath fogged. 

_We did it. We are a good team._  

The memory was enough to choke him up, faded as it was. He still remembered the smell of Altean mortar dusting the air, coating him as he helped Lance into a low crouch. Keith remembered the feeling of success as Sendak was defeated only to mute and warp as Lance fell into a concussed coma in need of a cryopod, right into his arms. 

He doubted a cryopod could fix this. 

He doubted _anything_ could. 

**_Perhaps listening is the first step…_**  

Keith gasped. 

He jerked his head up, whipping it left and right.  

_No way…_  

Around him, baked clay floats replaced the back of the red lion’s cargo hold, shifting atop swirling magma and shedding glistening grains of red sand into the shared pit below. Beneath him, the clay was soft; sand fine enough to sink into his clothes, sticking to his body like a second skin. Volcanic fumes forced ash flow and debris up into the air to swirl and dance in the wind.  

And _man_ , was there wind.

The sudden change was a shock, even compared to the swaying motion beneath him. Around him, Keith saw the rim of what he could only call a flaming caldera. Letting out a puff of air, Keith’s eyes took in everything he could of this very active and very _alive_ volcano. He tried not to flinch as the lava beneath his platform churned, keeping Lance pressed to his side as he weathered the turbulence. A slight shift of the platforms ahead of them, and soon there was enough room for any one of the lions of Voltron to comfortably sit in.  

Red didn’t disappoint.  

Somehow, Keith had gotten used to the idea of the lions fading in and out of existence when connected to the black lion’s mindscape. The red lion shook his perception without fail. 

Molten lava, red and golden and charred black as it cooled and reheated in smooth swirls and shifting plates, rising up from the pit, higher, higher. When the pillar was tall enough to match the Empire State Building, the lava arched, spired tip touching one of the nearby platforms. The lava curled like dyed water; ever-moving, ever-changing. It seemed to create a general shape, colours and plates and hardened obsidian hardening into cat-like features. 

Keith sucked in a breath, free of ashfall and other volcanic gasses.  

The air was cold. 

The scene before his eyes shifted, fading into a hazy afterimage of the red lion’s cargo hold. Keith gaped, trying to hold onto what he could of the mindscape. He felt the black lion’s steadying presence nudging him on in the right direction, watching the scene shift back into the red lion’s mindscape.  

She was still there when he returned.  

Still present.  

That was one thing Lance was not, Keith discovered, looking down to see fern-like frost embossment soften and trickle down his face into snowmelt. With it, he felt the air entering his lungs grow warmer. Lance’s face relaxed from its pinched expression, as though the pain was leaving him bit by bit. Keith felt eyes on him, tearing him from his stunned silence. 

He glanced up. 

Glinting golden visors met his gaze, filling him with wonder and questions and amazement and _relief_. 

“How—what—he’s, he’s gonna be okay.” Keith knew, even just uttering these words, that they were true. “He’s gonna be okay.” 

“ _He’s gonna be okay…_ ” He repeated, voice barely above an awestruck whisper; a litany.  

**_He is a true paladin of Voltron,_ ** the red lion spoke, voice smooth like a steady flame; powerful as the lava beneath them. It flooded Keith’s mind in time with his heavy pulse, leaving him reeling. **_I will not give him up so easily_ **. 

“He didn’t want to hurt you,” Keith felt the need to say, to assure. “He’d—he’d never do that. Not to you.” He felt the Red’s amusement more than he heard it. 

**_All the more reason to keep him._**  

It finally caught up to him; the unwinding tension, the _relief_ , rushing into him like a wall of flames enveloping him until all that was left was a pile of ash to join the wind in its constant dance. 

He wilted. 

If it weren’t for Lance’s body slumped against his own, Keith felt as though he would’ve melted into a puddle. As it was, he closed his eyes, feeling the red lion draw closer until she was curled around their bodies atop their own clay float. Sand lifted up in plumes at the disturbance before settling like ribbons nesting them in.  

Coils of black smoke touched the air, bringing along the strange scent of hard-boiled eggs. _Sulfur_ , Keith’s mind supplied, but he honestly didn’t care. To him, it was nothing more than an observation. He was much more focused on breathing and existing within this bubble of the red lion’s mindscape, free to enjoy as much heat as he liked.  

**_I did not expect his quintessence to be so elusive…_**  

Keith blinked. 

Baked clay and red sand blended together beneath blurry eyes as he took in what was said. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, brow furrowed. “Is that why he kept freezing?” 

**_He is one with the tide, young one. Ever-changing and evolving. He fears his own power…_ **

Keith smarted at the ‘ _young one_ ’ comment but waited.  

This was important. 

“Own power…” 

**_You will find he resembles my first paladin in far too many ways…_**  

Keith blinked.  

He frowned. 

“How… how can I help him? What do you need me to do?” 

The questions were automatic, unrelated to the possibly mind-blowing information the red lion was feeding him. He couldn’t afford to turn the words over; not right now. All that mattered was the boy in his arms, healing from the hurts he’d apparently put _himself_ through. 

All that mattered was Lance. 

Keith breathed. 

“What can I do to stop him from freezing to death?” 

**_What makes you think he beckons death?_**  

The question threw him off.  

_What?_  

“What?” 

**_Ever-changing and evolving. He fears his own power, youngling…_**  

“You _said_ that,” Keith huffed, exasperated. 

**_Fear brings the chill; insecurities merely feed it…_**  

Keith struggled to understand how any of that applied to Lance. He’d never thought of him as someone who feared anything, so it already floored him that this issue was linked to such an emotion. Furthermore…  

Insecurities? _Lance?_ He was the most self-assured person Keith knew. 

Then again… 

It was becoming more and more clear that he still had a thing or two to learn about his team. 

His _family._  

**_Remember, child; ever-changing and evolving. My paladin will not die from his own fallacy, but transform… and grow…_**  

Keith listened. Something strange stirred within him; budding and content. He breathed, letting himself get lost in the beginnings of nostalgia. 

Somewhere deep inside of him, Keith knew these weren’t his own feelings. 

**_He reminds me of simpler times…_**  

“He does that a lot,” Keith hummed, closing his eyes. Bittersweet not-memories flickered behind his eyelids; tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and nose stinging as two figures managed swordplay in a flattened grassy clearing not too far ahead. Dappled light glanced off polished blades, reflecting against impossibly white hair, absorbed by yellowed sclera. 

There was laughter.  

_Carefree…_  

Keith was pulled from the not-memory by a soft breeze, cool and full of sweet pollen.  

He breathed. 

“I think we’ll be okay, now.” Keith said, still high from nostalgia. When he opened his eyes, the inside of Red’s cargo hold greeted him. His lips curled up. He looked down at his hand, voices filtering through his biowatch in an even cadence. Pidge’s face was on the screen, but she was looking up, not seeing Keith come back to reality. A little louder this time, he said “Pidge, I think we’re okay, now.”

Pidge started. 

“Keith?!” Her head whirled down, eyes roving and absorbing as well as any code. Her face morphed from worry to relief. “You’re back!” 

“Yeah. Lance should be good now,” he said, shifting the hand holding Lance’s head up so it was now digging into his neck. A strong, even pulse twitched against his fingertips.  

The skin was warm.  

“He’s not freezing, anymore.” Keith realised with a start. He looked to Lance’s face, seeing pallid skin healthily flush as the red lion’s hold warmed once more.  

He looked peaceful. 

“Awesome. The red lion just dropped its particle barrier, so we’re pretty hyped.” Pidge relayed. “Think she’ll let us in any time soon?” 

As if to inject her own form of sass, Keith felt more than saw the red lion shift so she could allow the others full access. The constant hum of conversation coming through the biowatch died down.  

“… I guess that’s a yes…” Hunk’s voice piped up, both through the watch and through the opening just ahead of him. Keith huffed; amusement palpable.  

He breathed. 

Clutching Lance to his chest, cradling his head to his heart, Keith felt something give in him. There was no danger, no pain, no big bad coming to get them the second they closed their eyes. They had time between struggles to simply stop and just _breathe_. 

The others began to trickle in, taking in Keith’s and Lance’s positions pressed against the back wall, limbs clutched and weary. There was a distinct sense of _peace_ as the warmth from the cargo hold spread beyond their little bubble of security, enveloping all who entered.  

“Is he…” Hunk started, gesturing to Lance but unwilling to come too close. His soft-eyed concern was palpable.  

Keith smiled. 

“He’s gonna be okay,” Keith said, not much different from the red lion’s mindscape. He still felt the vestiges of nostalgia clinging off him.  

He remembered her words. 

“And…” He said, lungs filling with the gravity of new knowledge, “I think there’s something you guys should know.” 

He breathed. 

Their eyes felt piercing, expectant, despite their supportive nature. The black lion was a constant presence in the back of his mind. 

He had to tell them. 

“The lions are ready to deepen our bonds.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10067 words.
> 
> PACING? WHAT PACING?
> 
> I actually remember looking at my first AN on this fic and seeing "MAXIMUM 10 CHAPTERS" and looking at the chapter count at 31/30 and thinking "where did I go wrong?"
> 
> God this chapter killed me, and it was just because I had a plan for it. Plans kill me. Also, I finished writing this on my laptop only an hour before I had to give my laptop up because it was falling apart. I put it on google docs for editing and it's been nearly 24 hours since then and I'm finally happy with it. Sorta. Close enough. 
> 
> It's edited, okay? That's what matters. ♥
> 
> _Also..._
> 
> Y'ALL SEE THAT END? THIS AIN'T THE END BABY! IT'S ONLY PART ONE OF A NEVERENDING-KINDAENDING HOLE THAT I AM STEADILY DIGGING DEEPER FOR MYSELF. 
> 
> I'm doing this for the ship, guys. Keith x Lotor is my endgame and this is literally my mind trying to fix things before Lotor really comes in the picture because I need my happy ending. 
> 
> This fueled me in the making of this chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GmFfGiE16sM
> 
> Somebody please watch and comment and give this youtuber love because THEY FUELED THIS FANDOM.
> 
> So now that my laptop is dead, I'm gonna have to live off my phone for a little while. That means I'll be writing, posting, and living fanficiton off my phone, and doing uni assignments off this bad boy *holds up phone like the stick of truth*. With that said, I'll probably have to commandeer one of my siblings' computers if I wanna post new stuff on a daily basis like this mammoth started out. You guys will probably know if I do swipe their coms, though. Phone updates are a weekly gig, computers are a daily. Again, though, this story ain't over.
> 
> Thank you all for reading, commenting, kudos-ing, following, subscribing, bookmarking and supporting me through my constant illnesses that sprouted and fed this fic. 
> 
> I have a discord for anyone who wants to chill, share fandoms/fanfics/writing stuff. Join if you want to see the mind behind this madness. 
> 
> Or don't.
> 
> It's, like, totally up to you.
> 
> _https://discord.gg/awxVjkh_
> 
> Special thanks to Evanlyn_Winter® on discord for helping me figure out the red lion's mindscape. I was struggling with it for maybe 2 days and your help was invaluable to finishing this chapter and story.
> 
> Thank you all again for your support. I hope you all have a lovely day! ♥


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